


Take our time

by scaryspice



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, The power of friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22468312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaryspice/pseuds/scaryspice
Summary: Jeon Wonwoo, former varsity swim team star, now back to recover his crown from Kim Mingyu, current star of same team, after two years of absence for unknown reasons.(Or so they heard.)-Alternatively, out of every new thing he did and everyone he met during his freshman year, for two long years Mingyu was the one Wonwoo thought of the most.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 19
Kudos: 61





	1. The living

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I won’t even try and justify myself on why I’m back with another aquatic-related work so consider this: I have issues. Please don’t hold them against me. 
> 
> Also. This is my first time toying with the idea of angst so I’m heeeeella insecure regarding this one… I >just< decided to post it, and I’m not sure yet whether this story is any good and worthy of being shared or just... something I worked on for a long time and got attached.
> 
> Please be kind.
> 
> (Beware of the tags. If depictions of anxiety attacks affect you negatively, you may want to let me know in the comments so I can put a skip warning before these scenes!)
> 
> [This fic's playlist](https://suan.fm/mix/HkYdfV8_I).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue.

**(Mingyu)**

“Hey. Can you do me a favor and take my clothes to the laundry room when you go downstairs? I forgot to do it home and there’s somewhere else I have to be in five.”

Jeonghan catches Mingyu off guard as the former rolls up the sleeves of his shirt in front of the mirror, and the world may be upside down for all Mingyu knows, for the end of winter stretches nicely in-between days and classes haven’t even started yet, but Jeonghan is all dressed up like a proper student, oddly prepared to attend their last year before graduation.

For the past three years, the Computer Science student had followed religiously the tradition of not coming nowhere near their University campus until the very last day of winter vacations so he could spend all of his hours at home with his folks, eating homemade food of his taste instead of the three options of meal they serve every week on the dining hall without fail.

“Has Nana arrived already?” A suspicious Mingyu asks, sprawled on his cozy single-bed, where he has watched videos of swimming competitions between Universities as well as the morning fading away for the past hours. “Thought you were going to talk to Seungcheol before classes started.”

“Yeah. I’m going to help her with her bags. And it isn’t like him and I are the best of friends anyways. Not anymore at least. He’s a major jerk too, so I’m not rushing.”

Mingyu heaves a sigh. “Practices are about to become a living hell this year.”

“Nothing we’re not used to, you big softie.” Jeonghan twirls with spread out arms, showing off his clothes. “Do I look okay?”

“Very.”

“Sweet,” he determines vaguely and gestures toward the bag of dirty clothes at the feet of his own bed. “Also, I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Then, he’s out the door.

Mingyu does as he is asked even if he’s being taken advantage of, for Jeonghan has always been an active patient person with him since they got to room together as of their first year of University, and with said bag of clothes that could use a couple of rounds inside the machine in his hands, he descends three flights of stairs to the first floor.

"Is there anyone holding the elevator on the 4th?" Soonyoung, who lives two doors from his and Jeonghan’s room, shouts at him from across the main hall as soon as he makes a quick stop by the change machines just outside their building's laundry room. Soonyoung throws a thumb over his shoulder too, pointing the elevator. 

Mingyu frowns as he fumbles the front pockets of his sweats in search of a bill that is definitely in there. "I may have seen someone moving some heavy stuff in between floors? Not entirely sure though. Better take the stairs.”

“Eh? Don’t they know we’re only allowed to move stuff inside at night? Where’s Taeil when you need him? This building is infuriating,” Soonyoung heaves. “Young Vernon, so… The stairs?”

"To _our_ floor? Who exactly do you think I am, a marathon runner?" The reply comes from behind Soonyoung. Hansol is entirely leaned toward the elevator’s steel door with his spread fingers supporting the weight of his body, one eye trying to catch any glimpse inside the well. Mingyu's sure all he’s getting is a pink eye, however. "That I’ll pass.”

Soonyoung rolls his eyes but apparently decides on waiting some more with Hansol because he doesn’t make it to the stairs.

"I see you around so often sometimes I forget you don’t live here," Mingyu teases Hansol, an American student who lives a few buildings from theirs, "but then I think you forget that too."

Hansol detaches his face from the elevator doors and runs a hand over his brown hair, strands being combed off his forehead. "I only happen to enjoy experimenting what’s like not being a citizen of second class in this University from time to time. What’s with you two calling me out today?" he utters with annoyance. “But,” he tells Mingyu, “I may forgive you if you help Josh to convince that thick-headed roommate of yours to be part of my portfolio! This school year I’m sticking with the pretty boys as a technique of not embarrassing my parents overseas by becoming the campus creepy dude who asks random girls to pose for me. If I wanted to be creepy I could’ve done it in my hometown, am I right?”

“I doubt it can get any creepier than snapping pics of your roommate when he’s sleeping,” Soonyoung mumbles out.

“Aw, shush. Two American-born Koreans? At this point, we’re basically family.”

“Jeonghan has just left but I can try later on,” Mingyu interrupts their bickering to ensure Hansol but leaves them be after he is finished with pocketing his pennies and heads to the deserted laundry room.

He sorts the clothes in piles of dark and light coloreds quickly and stuffs two machines. Later, he saunters past the double doors of the building entrance to face the bitter, wintry breeze of March early days.

Just like everything else in this bleak block during this time of the year, before the official start of classes, the tiny convenience store across from campus seems completely emptied when Mingyu jogs inside and orders some coffee to dodge the coldness. Outside, not even a single car dares to disturb the quietness of the streets, but here the smooth sounds of the staff operating the coffee machine harmonize with the crack of plastic packages being handled in the aisle behind him, and all sounds find this strange harmony.

As the staff fills him a paper cup, Mingyu’s eyes wander to the rectangular monitor lying on a shelf beside the cashier’s head and near the cabinet where all sorts of cigarette brands are on display. The images from the recently added security cameras have been split into four frames - on the superior left corner the sidewalk is seeing, where plastic tables and chairs are usually set on warmer days albeit not at this time of the year; the superior corner offers a view similar to the one the cashier must have as he stands behind the counter, for Mingyu’s body takes a good portion of it; the bottom left is the image of a camera that seems to hang from the ceiling as it spins in a 180 degree, constantly sweeping the convenience’s five aisles; Mingyu is featured again in the final bottom corner, as the device fixed right above the freezers on his right has a good view of the entrance again, this time from indoors, as well as his side profile—he whips his head around to give the camera a spirituous and narrow-eyed look, then back to the screen.

The shopper responsible for all the rustling of packages heard upon his arrival isn’t more than a dim figure when they come into view in the corner of his eye, but he can also see them approaching the front of the store through the images rolling in the bottom left.

Mingyu’s attention is barely on the staff when he is handed his cup of coffee, but rather on that someone who decides this nipping cold night is as good as any to put their hands on whatever is being kept inside the freezers when they finally get to the bottom right of the surveillance monitor. The juxtaposition tears a smirk out of Mingyu and he starts fumbling his pockets on a search party for the coins he has just got from the change machine outside the laundry room.

Then, it occurs him. Realization sweeping over his being so hard he has to risk giving a double-check to the monitor above the cashier’s shoulder as well as the shopper whose image is now infinitely clearer for standing directly below the camera.

So, this is what’s like to see a _ghost_ , he thinks with his heart thrumming loud in his eardrums.

No such thing as an ectoplasm you tell everything about to your classmates the morning after; no running and no hiding below the duvets in fear on a wicked night after you catch a glimpse of something you cannot explain accurately but it’s definitely in front of you, performing a trick to prove that they’re still around.

Only this sickening sensation of being in the wrong place at the wrong time; the only one witnessing something you most probably shouldn’t have.


	2. The returned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a homecoming of sorts for Wonwoo.

**(Wonwoo)**

“Can I sit with you?” Seokmin prompts balancing his food tray on his palms, not long after Wonwoo is discharged right outside the library and heads to the dining hall where all he wants to do is stuffing his face with food and later go back to his dorm room to pass out on his bed for all of his hours after the tense morning promoted by whoever messed up the list of students recently arrived at the University.

The beginning of a new semester, new dorm room arrangements... Wonwoo, who has technically been a student for the past three years, sees how he ended up being given yet a second orientation tour around campus which rooms have become the bane of his existence with a group of milling freshmen as company.

Nonetheless, he had been on his toes the entire tour, should the cluster turn into one of these corners swamped with overwhelming memories that only the thought of could wear him down, but however fidgeting with the loose threads of denim inside the front pockets of his pants, Wonwoo’s apprehension got to pass unnoticed to all the excited giggles and comments coming from younger students with arms linked on one another as if to seal a pact of new friendships that should last for the following years, as read in the fine print.

With the buildings he knows too well and could never forget towering above the group, back and forth they had explored the campus, climbed impressive stairwells, turned on sharp bends where one hallway meets another, crossed the quenched grass that spreads over yards while being educated on the species of the elderly tall trees that can be found here and there, moved past a handful of things that weren’t there two years ago as well as dozens of others that have been moved around at some point while he was away.

Now sat down with his food, he quickly averts his eyes to a table across the dining hall to see Seungcheol, a former friend of his, taking the closest seat to the entrance, with the chair in front of him empty and kicked to the side. He glances back at his plate and shovels his fork into his mouth.

He feels bitter in a way. Bitter and hopeless.

“Have you been kicked out of the clique because we talked yesterday?”

Seokmin takes the question as a confirmation and flops down onto the seat opposite to Wonwoo’s, sets his tray on the table, and starts munching on his already half-eaten Buddha bowl as if he hasn’t seen food in decades.

“You got close. Let’s say _Seungcheol_ is upset because you’re back and we talked. There’s only so much I can do about it though. You and I know he’ll buck up and accept it eventually,” he replies. “As for the others… Eh… I can’t possibly ensure you where they’ll stand when they eventually find out that you’re back, but we’ll talk about that later when you’re settled.”

Wonwoo doesn’t get his hopes up or expects rage and its ephemeral nature to allow them the opportunity of talking things out in due course. Two years of radio silence aren’t easy to be swept under the rug, and if his accidental and far from welcoming first reunion with Seungcheol outside the dorm room Wonwoo and Seokmin used to share, followed by the lengthy lecture he received from same Seungcheol, are to be considered, the odds that his friends will forgive him for pushing them out of his life as he walked out of the team and vanished from Earth’s surface altogether are slim to none.

Enrolling in classes again had been a decision he’d carefully sat onto for weeks until finally coming to the conclusion that he had no other option but to return to school and get his diploma since the time they’d given him to sort himself out was running out. His next step – getting in touch with the people who for two whole years heralded him of all the motives that sent him into a tailspin overnight when he went through such a frightening meltdown episode – had been even harder, as he could only expect his friends to go through a moment heavy of blinding rage and shout at him as they used to each other when one of them messed up the relay or doubted their own potential the night before a crucial elimination run.

Standing by Seokmin’s door with one raised hand and ready to knock, Wonwoo trailed off and considered going back to his own new building, but followed along with his plan until his former teammate eventually swung the door open to reveal his face wrinkled of too many hours of sleep. It was barely 9 in the morning and Seokmin hadn’t let their chat turn particularly awkward by asking Wonwoo everything except what they should talk about the most, and together they tiptoed around the elephant in the room and pretended that that wasn’t the most awkward reunion of their lives.

“I am sorry for dragging you into this story,” he confesses in a lower voice now, although it’s handy having at least Seokmin to talk to. “Have you ever told anyone what happened?”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Had a weird sensation when the counselor called me up to her office yesterday.”

“I had to see a counselor in middle school when my parents got divorced. Why would they call you up?”

Wonwoo shrugs to avoid getting into details for the meeting with the University’s counselor has served him nothing but to add yet another item to his already long list of concerns about the upcoming school year.

Having an appointment scheduled at the counselor’s office almost one entire week before the start of classes didn’t sit him well from the moment his father informed him of the _talk_. His dad has never been a terrific liar, what works quite well for his often overexcited family when it comes to birthday surprises and good news in general, but startled Wonwoo on levels when after returning from Seokmin’s room he came across the apparently laid back text (“Hi kiddo!! How are you hanging on in there?? Please make sure you don’t miss your appointment with your counselor today!! Around 4:00 works just fine for the lady!! Mommy sends hugs and tells you to dress warmly!!”) in which his progenitor pretended to have totally forgotten about it for calming purposes.

The text didn’t have the usual typos originated by his dad’s big thumbs, which meant he had either borrowed his mom’s small ones to compose the message or thought what to type rather thoroughly, and Wonwoo didn’t know which scenario was sadder because whatever the truth is, in a way he felt like his parents were trying to trick him into believing that being problematic to the point of having unsolicited professional help is an ordinary situation in people’s lives.

In all honesty, seeing his parents having such reservations about the current state of his mental health was even worse than have his feelings regarding his return to classes after two years questioned, his study plan for the upcoming term examined so thoroughly and his plans for the future discussed with a stranger when he had _none_.

He had comfortably floated in the middle, existed without any sort of raison d'être while feeling incapable of doing anything about it for too long, and his lack of perspective had little to do with a personal choice, revealing to be yet another symptom of the collapse of his mental health. It had been relatively easy for Wonwoo to fool himself until he started to believe that he had grown tired of the person he had been for nineteen years and was finally starting to appreciate spending all day and every day inside the house becoming one with his bed and that quitting all the things he loved was his choice because perchance they weren’t nearly as exciting as before.

It worked for a long while.

“I want to… Shorten my three years left of classes as much as I dare, and maybe being a wallflower while I’m at it,” he shared his very first urge with the counselor, hoping that he could make a practical plan out of it.

To which she replied: “You’re enrolled in subjects expected from sophomore and junior students of the Economics department, and I’m aware our University has _tough_ ways of reminding the students who have been away from classes for a long period of time that they should sort themselves up as fast as possible, but I can assure you you won’t be running out of time if you drop a couple of subjects. Your return has just got accepted and I advise you to start nice and slow, at least this term. Then, work your way up taking some extra class activities next semester.”

And because it was her office and because he is now part of the _handpicked_ group of students expected to pay quick visits to her throughout the semester, Wonwoo had let her think her word was final.

“Well, did you?”

“No, not me.” Seokmin looks so offended. He pulls it off so genuinely that Wonwoo has no other option but to believe.

“Somebody else, then?”

“You mean Wen Jun? I don’t think so.”

Seokmin stares at Wonwoo with that hint of curiosity that the later will have to grow accustomed to if he plans on finishing this school year, it doesn’t matter if he can’t have anybody surveying him for more than five seconds without feeling insecure.

“Jeon. Can I ask you why me out of everyone? I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong. I’m happy that you feel better and decided to return to finish your studies. It was only expected you reached Cheol first but I noticed you didn’t even want to look him in the eye last night at the dorms. Or Mingyu maybe, since you used to spend so much time together before you left.”

“For one, Seungcheol has a temper and our reunion wasn’t exactly off to a good start. Wasn’t looking for another reason or another person to get yelled at,” he replies, attempting to play down his motives for this is a sore spot he’d rather skip now and let to face later on.

Most days Wonwoo feels like one drop is all he needs to stir up an intimidating whirlwind of sensations similar to the desperation that consumed him during the hours leading up to his fatidical decision of giving up from his short-lived career and running back home and onto his mother’s lap. If he’s not careful, he’ll spill like a damaged faucet again.

“For another, you, almighty Seokmin, arguably the second nicest guy after God, were the most obvious choice in order to avoid conflict or too much explanation. You’re the only one capable of offering somewhat kind words after two years of absence on my part. So there you have it, that’s why. I’m sorry if it isn’t the selfless answer you were expecting.”

“For one,” a solemn Seokmin repeats after him, “on the contrary. I feel honored for being seen as someone who is capable of continuing kind even in the hardest situations. For another, it’s more than a temper if you ask me. Rumor has it he’s grown one hell of an ego since becoming team captain.”

Wonwoo keeps silent. He doesn’t have much to comment on these matters and rather drop the subject already.

“Isn’t entirely true, though. Cheol spent the sophomore year being prepared by Jonghyun to replace him as captain, and when Jonghyun graduated Cheol assumed more responsibilities with the team. As of late, he’s been concentrating on his performance more than ever so everything works out right on his last year as captain. He even broke up with Nayoung before winter vacations so he wouldn’t have any distractions, so you know he’s serious about distractions.”

Seungcheol and Nayoung were so into each other that it was plain to see. Knowing each other since middle school, they had come from a long way and found attending the same University years later, which basically seemed to allow them a new beginning and for new feelings to be discovered. So they clung onto each other, day after day building a relationship sprinkled with lucky pecks on the lips before each competition without a fail, loud cheers from the sidelines, silly placards with rhymes meant to support the team and other overall beautiful, glittery moments.

Wonwoo used to think that nothing about Seungcheol’s relationship with Nayoung hinted to eventual failure. They seemed immune to shortcomings.

He breathes loudly but speaks in an undertone, “that makes no sense. Nana isn't a distraction and being a team captain isn’t that serious.”

“It is for him.” Seokmin shifts on his seat to stare at Wonwoo. His face is welcoming again. "Speaking of inflated egos, come watch the relay this Sunday. We ride at the sunset.”

Wonwoo snorts humorless, eyes dipping to his food. He’s not so hungry anymore. Thinking about Nayoung and Seungcheol is spreading a sort of queasiness over him, the empathy getting to him more than he had hoped it would learning about the end of a relationship he’d somewhat forgotten over time. “So you guys still do that then?”

“Yes!” Seokmin shouts to a nearly empty dining room, and huffs out: “Rain or shine! You know the drill…”

The tradition had somehow receded into his memory until this very moment, but he can’t say the recollection of the quite simple premises of the event promoted at the gymnasium every beginning of a new semester, while the majority of the students residing in the dorms crowded on the bleachers to sport the predetermined colors of their preferred group in order of showing support, doesn’t bring back a distant feeling of familiarity.

For starters, Coach’s long pep talk about friendly competition between both groups the team members are split in, followed by the losing team pretending they're perfectly fine with losing the race, staying behind to put the towels away and clean the pool deck during the entire semester, and winners celebrating until everyone's fed up of the teasing, plus a couple more encouraging sentences and so the upcoming school term can officially begin. It’s only competition and fun, really.

Way less fun and more pointless competition in Wonwoo’s humble opinion, but he supposes he isn’t the most indicated person to judge what it means to have fun anymore. Granted, being away from this reality had dulled him. In comparison to all the adrenaline he had experienced while being part of the swim team, his feelings became thin and silky over time, rarely intense enough to last or move him. Sensations were felt so meekly that he would often come to suspect their veracity. 

He nods acknowledging it. “I’d feel out of place. There would be a lot of awkwardness with the guys,” he waves the idea off.

This aside, leaving the bedroom, where he has happily hidden and spaced out since the beginning of the week, sounds nothing like a great idea if you ask Wonwoo. Coming back had been tiring already and perhaps he needs a longer rest in between activities, even if it means not socializing at all.

He can definitely do well left to his own devices during the next two years – he has Seokmin until the male’s graduation after all. Wonwoo can live off interactions with Seokmin for the rest of the year. Oh well, he’ll be fine.

“You don't have to stay the entire race or actually dress up to support any heat, for all that matters. Bouncing before it’s over so you won’t be caught in the crowd is acceptable. Or we could sneak some beers in your bedroom afterward? I'll take what I can get. Also, it would be only you and me tonight after the relay. No one else.”

“Is that so? So they did kick you out because of me!” he accuses perversely and attempting to turn the tables but feels instant remorse for acting like a dick and for such trivial reason.

Being surrounded by his folks, who are accustomed to whatever words he says and at least try to grasp the meaning behind them, he didn’t get to exercise his tact on people. At home, he didn’t need to worry much about anything but to walk the line so he wouldn’t be fired from his semi-skilled work for there weren’t many jobs he was qualified for after dropping out of school as soon as he was done with his first year of classes. They had been pretty uneventful years with him going from home to work/work to home, only sporadically stopping to chat with costumers or neighbor kids who didn’t get the same chance as him of attending a good school and stayed in the city for that matter, hence connecting on deeper levels with anyone only got harder and harder over time.

“I may if I find the time," he decides to wing it quietly, even if he doesn't think he'll be able to attend the traditional event, for he has to get his stuff ready for Monday.

The first week of classes are infamously busy and he has no plans of dropping the additional classes he got as a way of making up for the years he did nothing in particular but working his ass off at the dusty antique store down the block from his home in Changwon whilst not knowing what to do with his life. In fact, he had been considering joining one of those clubs to get extra credit just then when Seokmin joined him for lunch.

His flimsy attempt of mending fences pays off when Seokmin shrugs in a helpless manner as if to drop the subject and pokes his chopsticks on Wonwoo’s plate to loot on his food because that’s what he would often do anytime they gathered for meals in freshman year.

It’s a simple thing, but it helps Wonwoo to relax.

Later, when he returns to his rather empty dorm building, he finds a post-it note glued to the door of his room. He checks the surroundings and inspects both sides of the fairly quiet hall.

They’ve been slow days these before the official beginning of classes, just how Wonwoo hoped they would. Most faces seen in the common areas either belong to students participating in exchange programs, expected to arrive a week earlier for the orientation assembly, or to students integrating the university board such as the Resident Assistants and members of sports teams.

Aside from the building where the majority of foreign students are settled, three out of the four dorms are lonely towns where students get to do whatever with a lesser risk of being caught so far and will remain this way until regular students arrive and the University halls are packed again.

Noticing there is no sign of familiar faces except for three guys with whom he may have shared a few electives on his first semester of University and that now make a poor job of whispering to each other while sending him curious glances, he pushes the door open and takes the note to bed with him when he slumps on it like dead weight.

Raising the piece of paper in front of his eyes, he examines the words again with a curious frown: ‘Welcome!!! See you around…’. Afterward, rolls on his side, pressing his ear on the fluffy surface of his pillow yet again to study the empty and perfectly groomed bed pushed against the opposite wall.

It’s such a quiet noon.

Now winter is officially on its way out, the distant bark of dogs being walked by their owners in the park just outside the campus and from where his 4th-floor room has a privileged view of mixes with the comforting whistle of the withering breeze that brings snowflakes to the pane of the room’s only window and the silence of a nearly desert campus.

The click of the lock would’ve passed unnoticed if not for the silly chatter on the hallway that grows loud in volume to invade his room through the door as it is slowly cracked open. Wonwoo moves instantly to sit up on his cozy single-bed, somewhat hunched over his spread legs, similar to a scrawny teddy bear, and see the two males stepping inside.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were sleeping,” the one with chubby cheeks guesses moving inside the bedroom with both expertise and a heavy rucksack attached to his back.

Wonwoo clings to silence for dear life, mind blank.

Accordingly to his – now he knows - misconception, Wonwoo thought he wouldn’t be meeting his new roommate so early in the week. Arriving earlier than the ordinary students had felt like a plus because it would grant him more time to adjust to the spin on his daily routine, and learning through the counselor that his new roommate couldn’t possibly be an athlete, he’d started to think the guy would show up maybe during the last weekend before classes, along with the majority of students residing in the dorms or any time except for now. He isn’t prepared or thriving on interacting with anyone except for Seokmin just yet.

His own issues regarding living with a stranger for the rest of the year aside, he still got to unpack. Some of his stuff, previously folded and pushed inside new cardboard boxes his parents and brother helped to set, have seen the light of the day and are now left to clump up on the edges of his mattress, yet he has moved to and out of bed in the same pair of white shirt and gray joggers for the past two nights, and he feels like he is giving off an unfortunate first impression already.

“This is Hansol by the way. He lives down campus with the rest of the foreign students but you’ll see him around more times than you desire.”

Wonwoo’s eyes flicker to the pink pajama bottoms and slippers Hansol wears so casually. Wonwoo should find it cringe, but somehow he doesn’t. They fit the little he’s seen of Hansol aesthetic, he guesses.

He snatches a look at Wonwoo now. “You will, but don’t bother, I swear to God this isn’t Stockholm syndrome, just how our old and boring friendship works. I love it here!” Wonwoo knows he is caught staring so he forces his eyes up to his face. “You won’t want to get on my bad side when your classes are across campus and I’m the only one with an available bike.”

“Your bike is always available because you’re never in classes,” the other observes rather matter of factly.

The Hansol guy scoffs in disbelief with his entire body and passive-aggressiveness oozes out. “Of course I’m in classes. You’ve just… Caught me slacking a little. It’s under control. I have a system.”

His roommate is having none of it when he reclaims the rucksack Hansol carries and sidesteps Wonwoo’s stuff to get to his own half of the room.

“I’m Kwon Soonyoung,” he says in all lateness. Soonyoung’s face isn’t familiar, but Wonwoo links his name to a dozen occasions he’s heard it in the school halls, dining halls, classrooms, and once inside the quiet library too if he’s not mistaken.

He can’t recall a single moment they have exchanged actual words before today, as they used to hang with different crowds, but whenever Soonyoung’s name was brought up it should be in the same sentence as mean, unflattering comments. Nothing worth mentioning. Just little previews of how obnoxious the people in their University are.

Wonwoo swings his legs to the floor and rises to his feet while being watched by the other two. “Sorry about that. I’ll put my stuff away now,” he skips the introductions. Looking around, he has no clue where to start. Similar to his thoughts, his stuff is all over the place.

Wonwoo is met with a brief albeit painful awkward silence. The quizzical stare Hansol offers him fits right in. 

“Hey. It’s fine. You don’t have to do that now,” Soonyoung ensures him. “I can always give you a hand if you want to? I know how getting settled can be challenging. Took me almost an entire semester to get my stuff in its righteous places during my first year. I’ll help you.”

Due to the lack of a better idea to make his side of the room livable, Wonwoo grabs the first pants he finds in front of him and starts folding them to give his hands something to do. “No. It’s— fine. I should’ve done this the day I arrived but… I didn’t. You’ve just sidestepped my boxes. I don’t want to bother you.”

“It wouldn’t bother him,” Hansol butts in. “Bet he’s probably dying to do that after all the Marie Kondo he read on winter vacations.”

On that, Wonwoo nods a few additional times than the acceptable amount because he has no idea who Marie Kondo is. At home, he would only watch over and over again the sixteen episodes of his favorite drama in his room because he found out that keeping up with a story which ups and downs he knew already while not finding the appeal of going outside or paying attention to the News was somewhat comforting. Perhaps living through the exciting adventures the characters of _Gentlemen! We have a winner_ had made the last 2 years more bearable.

“’Tidying your physical space allows you to tend to your psychological space’. Don’t worry about it,” Soonyoung explains returning to claim the rucksack Hansol carries and tossing it on his bed as well.

Hansol nods resolutely. Afterward, he points his finger in the direction of Wonwoo’s bed. “Oh, is that my note?” Wonwoo follows his gaze with his black pants still in hands, index finger caressing the creases. The little note now sticks to his grey bedding. “Taeil sent a late notice to Soonyoung’s email about the University finally getting him a roommate and he asked me to clear away his stuff to make some space for you yesterday morning while he was still home, but the door was locked and I couldn’t find you so I left the note.”

“Yesterday?”

The previous day Wonwoo had returned to his room so spent after his meeting with the counselor that he can’t even remember seeing a note on his door. He slept for hours and even after he woke up, he didn’t leave the room until this morning, for his tour.

“It’s my bad I didn’t know your name either, so I didn’t know how to address you.” 

Not seeing his name on it hadn’t been the motive of his concern, but the lack of Hansol’s own. For a hot second, it crossed his mind that the news of his return had spread and one of the boys had maybe dropped by already. Sounds like a stupid idea now, but for one moment and one moment only, the note had given him something to look forward to.

“Right. I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo.”

A diverted smirk increases on Soonyoung’s lips. “Don’t be so modest. Not like you’ve left with nothing to your name. Hansol here may be the only American I know not into sports of any kind but I’ve watched you swim in many of those times the University set buses to take students to cheer for the team in out-of-town competitions,” he informs and Wonwoo watches Soonyoung turn on Hansol. “Wonwoo’s on that photo frame Joshua has in your room, remember? The one with the rest of his team?”

The name rings a bell immediately. Soonyoung probably means Joshua as in Bioscience major Joshua Hong. Just Hong to Coach Kang whenever she bossed him to keep the head in the game. Josh or L.A. to the rest of the team. Third option on Wonwoo’s list of doors he considered knocking when deciding to get in contact with the past again, below Seokmin and Lee Chan, respectively.

Throughout their first year of school Joshua’s roommate used to have a major issue with the American’s schedule and team’s visits to their room, so by the end of the school year, he was in the process of accepting that maybe he needed to switch rooms and find himself a more accepting roommate.

Now seeing that Joshua has finally found another guy to share a room with, Wonwoo wonders whether the dorm arrangements aren’t actually based on random draws as he thought they were, especially when he remembers how fervently his counselor had highlighted his future roommate’s positive attributes as a way of making Wonwoo more accepting of him. Joshua has Hansol, American as him, and Junhui and Minghao had also been put together right from the start and only later decided to try for the team, contrary to the other swimmers who had shifted rooms and started rooming only later because it was only convenient to have two swimmers rooming together. Ironically enough, now Wonwoo is being assigned to this room with Kwon Soonyoung. When paired up, there was no way people like them would pass four years of school without having at least a few selected derogatory comments attached to their names.

But no one could have divined what Soonyoung and Wonwoo have in common, at least not yet. Oh fuck. If Wonwoo believed more fervently in heaven and hell then he would think this is a sign.

Hansol’s mouth goes slightly agape with the most recent information. “Oh. _The_ Jeon. Right,” he interjects, rather simply and as if he doesn’t know what else to say. But he’s roommates with Joshua after all and Wonwoo would have to be stupid to not expect Hansol to have heard at least a few comments about him. He can see a whole battle going on in Hansol’s facial expression as the male tries to tone down his surprise. “I’ve heard about you! Of course! But I’ve never been exactly close to the athletes before rooming with Josh, to be honest, and God looked at me and said ‘you’re gonna be chill and definitely one sweet piece of ass but you’ll lack stamina and won’t be too competition-prone’. I’m more like a sensitive photographer down with my own artsy folks. An artist if you will,” Hansol babbles with this overconfidence that may trick one into believing he’s actually going somewhere with his words.

Soonyoung is the one snorting this time. “Right, Hansol. I’m starving. Do you want to go and grab lunch with us?” he asks moving past him, all his stuff forgotten on top of his bed now.

“Thanks. I just got back from the dining.”

“See you in a jiff!” Hansol’s voice comes out in echoes as Soonyoung gently guides him back onto the hall.

Wonwoo feels both lethargic and restless instantly after dealing with them, attention drawn to his bed. He’s never bored of lying down, it doesn’t matter how many hours a day he can go attached to the coziness of a single-bed. At home days would start and fade out and he would be curled in a ball or turned upside down with his legs on the wall and head falling off the edge, drifting to sleep or facing a blank point on the nearer wall, neglecting whatever went on around—a perpetual hibernation.

Now, the last weeks of winter are here and everything feels about to change.

Even if the classes along with a new routine are yet to start and he has some time left to spend inside the room, he knows it won’t work out the way it did when he was home. Things were nice and easier there. No judging, no questions. Only mom and dad knocking on his door to check if he was alright from time to time because he’d been sprawled on the carpet with his job's uniform still on after three hours of his arrival, unbothered to clean up or have dinner or anything that would demand more than five minutes of his precious lying down time.

He has a roommate now, who had it written all over his face his surprise in finding him in bed at one in the afternoon, and he doesn’t want to come off as lazy or untidy and have complaints filed against him isn’t an option over these next semesters. He doesn’t have the Coach or perhaps the entire University board to back him up and overlook his eventual slip-ups anymore.

Wonwoo moves inside the tiny room trying to figure out where to start by his own efforts even if he has been promised aid, and checks inside the shared closet and above the desk that should become his now but so far houses some of Soonyoung belongings. Soonyoung certainly got caught by surprise with the news of receiving a new someone to share the room with and Wonwoo doesn’t feel comfortable pushing his roommate’s stuff to the side to open space for his own, so he decides that fixing what he can on his side of the imaginary divide and, at least for the time being, cram whatever’s left under his bed as neatly as possible is the most reasonable idea he has at hands.

Returning to bed is tempting once he’s finished, but Wonwoo reaches out under it again to find warmer garments and forces himself out the door and down the three flights of stairs.

However promising his parents to at least try to eat healthily during his stay in Seoul, deep down Wonwoo knows his strolling down the convenience store across the street from the campus’ inhabited, not promising aisles will result in a fruitful purchase of as many boring flavors of instant noodles he can fit inside the beaten up shopping basket in his hands.

But this is a small pleasure he’d been rarely allowed on his first time around because being part of the team meant following a rather rigid diet. Avoiding anything that could impact on his health and performance negatively was particularly hard near the tournaments and events, therefore, eating whatever snacks he craved on his daily routine was out of question. In a few occasions, they would sneak off to the fifth-floor study and eat all the food someone’s mom had packed them during the weekend, something that was strictly forbidden by the building’s administration during a regular week, so the escapade had become a small act of mutiny at that point.

Wonwoo doesn’t miss this part and it may be a tad out of spite that he heads off to browse the snacks aisle, set in adding chips as well as two cans of ice-cream of his favorite brand to his basket before leaving, too.

Studying each shelf carefully, Wonwoo is certain the little convenience was somewhat kept in the past while the rest of the world moved on to better things, with the number of things that have been changed in the last two years in each aisle being incredibly limited. The assorted sauces are still stored on the same corner, where, easy to figure out, it’s next to the dried beef jerky. The shelves are still filled with the same old snacks which flavors are still fresh in his taste buds. A few packages of honey butter chips can be found wedged between two different brands of imported sugar-free snacks that were Joshua’s all-time favorites because they reminded him of home.

He thinks about his former teammate again. How often he had at least one of these snacks in his backpack, in his locker, in a card box under his bed for easy access on nights when he couldn’t drift to sleep. How those terrible, tasteless snacks made him feel better about being away from his place. Then, pushing his potato chips craving aside for one second, Wonwoo drops a few boxes of watermelon juice to his basket, hoping this can help him feel less lonely and closer to home, too.

Packed with instant noodles, juice, sweet potato chips and all set to cash everything out, Wonwoo shuffles quietly across the vinyl tiles and takes his full basket with him to the ice-cream stacked freezers across from the shop’s entrance only to find a huge disappointment instead. However occupying the four shelves on his last time visiting the shop, now there are only a few cans of the sugary and melting treats left and they have been pushed to a corner by several boxes of frozen meals – not to say how much the freezers need to be cleaned up, with some frost sticking to the door, which forces Wonwoo to start reconsidering his decision of buying ice-cream that’s most certainly about to expire.

Wonwoo squints to read the expiration dates on the can labels through it without pulling the door open and having to deal with a gush of cold that could rival the breeze outdoors, but all he gets is his eyes being tugged by the reflection of another customer in the shop, a few meters away from him.

The thin layer of frost attached to the glass door doesn’t offer more than a blurry and melting reflection - half a face, cheeks, the curve of a neck, too little skin, and other unrecognizable parts of a body -, but this wouldn't be the first time he'd seen Mingyu standing with his hip jutted to the side as he purchases his usual order of black coffee—no sugar.

This moment’s uncanny resemblance with those occasions in which his mind disconnected from everything else and he stopped feeling like a real person in a real-world for one moment or several too many are impressive because he can't even fathom how he ended up in such compromising situation, and therefore it must be a case of dissociation or plain brain-blip.

However, the sight of Mingyu feels too real to be brushed off as a figment of a vivid imagination, even more real than the feel of his heartbeat increasing slowly but surely. Moreover, regardless of how off-ish this moment feels, Wonwoo doesn't think he owns the creativity needed to simulate the beats that pour off the speakers attached to the walls or the faint scent of that black, warm coffee he holds in his hand and now seems to reach Wonwoo's nostrils.

Initially blaming the swimmer for putting him through an emotional wringer, the thought of Mingyu had been often put away, for Wonwoo never quite allowed his mind to sit on memories for too long. Over the worst phase of his life Mingyu's name, face, and every single thing attached to him had represented danger and indulge in it felt a lot like going on a suicide mission. Wonwoo would push Mingyu’s whole presence so far back his head so often it didn’t feel like a figurative gesture anymore.

Still, Mingyu would swing his way back in occasionally, often as a cameo in dusty memories Wonwoo didn't even know were worthy of being remembered. He would shake up these thoughts as soon as they sprung, nipping them directly in the bud because they didn't stand a chance with him anymore. But sometimes – only sometimes, he swears! - he longed to add some context to these fleeting scenes that crossed his head and recall what joke he'd told to have Mingyu rolling on the floor; piece the bits of broken sentences together; or anything else, really. He wasn't picky.

With his free hand tightening involuntarily around the door handle, Wonwoo notices he’s really here and so is Mingyu – both of them are real people in the real world. Hence, he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore.

Akin to a patient crocodile lurking in the swampy water, waiting for the right time to surprise its prey, he tracks every movement of an unsuspecting Mingyu - from the moment he sucks timidly on his bottom lip and works his free hand inside his pockets to when the swimmer’s task comes to a halt and he inhales hard enough for Wonwoo to be able to pinpoint the rise of his chest as he stares the cashier so intently.

The pause of sheer tension that ensues quickly stretches into two dragged seconds, and it has Wonwoo clutching even harder to both the door and his basket, for he mustn't be spotted. Mingyu is the first to break the spell when he lowers his head tiredly. The coins he's set aside to pay for his coffee escape from his grasp with a clang which the emptiness of the store only seems to reverberate louder, and Wonwoo, who shrinks instantly and quietly, finds it twice as disturbing as he should've on the account of feeling so tense.

Mingyu exits the convenience with a tight apology to the cashier and Wonwoo hates himself for not hesitating to peer over his shoulders to watch his back disappearing rapidly behind the sliding doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps I'm a lil rusty but let me know what you think so far?


	3. Little league

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Wonwoo attends the annual meeting of the "F*ck Wonwoo" club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you'll get some of the answers you're looking for in this chapter.

Out of the dorms, Wonwoo doesn’t realize he’s actually accepting Seokmin’s invite until he’s circling the gymnasium to avoid a horde of enthusiastic students that start to spill through the doors with their rosy cheeks and red and blue garments and get in by the back.

With Soonyoung being off to watch the relay with the promise of forcing Hansol to accompany him because it would be _fun_ (his words, clearly), Wonwoo was supposed to have the bedroom all to himself for forty minutes or so, for these events never lasted long, but in one moment he was in his room, jamming clothes inside their closet while considering hitting the floor’s communal kitchen, and having the wide array of sounds of a lively gymnasium disturbing his quiet Sunday afternoon the next.

Inside the pools, Wonwoo had never acknowledged before how loud the crowd could get during these events as he was usually too busy focusing not only on his own performance as well as his competition’s, therefore the most distinct sound his ears picked out was of skin hitting the water. The cheering was there, and he could hear it especially when he swam breaststroke, but his level of awareness of his surroundings didn’t get much further than a few lanes away from his.

With his dorm building being quite far from the gymnasium, though certainly visible from up his window, like an expert, he could easily guess each stage of the relay only by listening to the cheers of the crowd. Even after keeping his distance from the pools since quitting the team, the memory of the emotions that swimming evoked were still there, somewhat akin to the unmistakable sensation of spending hours inside the sea and then getting to dry land, only to still feel your body pitch up and down when your feet are rooted to the ground.

And either with the purpose of escaping from the four walls of his room when the moment was finally ideal for a walk after two whole days of constant snow that now seems to have withered almost completely or for whichever excuse Wonwoo didn’t feel like crafting just yet, he plugged his earbuds and risked leaving his dorm building with only two thick sweaters as protection from the feathery snowflakes that tumbled down, too timidly to even pile up on the grass and pavement.

With the exception of a small group of curious freshmen willing to memorize all the trophies and medals collected by the school’s athletics over time, taking into consideration how close they check the tokens of their school’s long history of victories, the length of the white-bricks wall hall to the bath and locker rooms and stairwells to the second floor and offices remains empty.

Wonwoo has to tug his body out of their way a couple of times and he does as silently as he can while waiting for Seokmin, who never shows up. All he can hear is the echo of voices fading away slowly, and his knowledge of previous events enlighten him: He’s late and Seokmin must have moved inside the lockers before his arrival, likely for being part of the victorious group. 

He is set to head outdoors again and maybe wait for Seokmin to come to him later in the night when the fists that meet the front of his sweater pull him swiftly, and so he lets himself half walk, half trip inside the locker room on his right.

Wonwoo flops down abruptly on one of the benches between two long sets of lockers, let go to be stared at menacingly by a half-circle of boys in jammers shorts and damp towels that protect their backs from the cold afternoon, and whose loud, carefree voices he would have been able to hear before they got to him during simpler times when there was eleven of them racing each other out the gymnasium after practices, energy usually off the roof. But because it’s crazy how the world turns upside down overnight, now they’re only three and there are no smiles to be seen, no merciless teasing, no loudness to be heard as they stand silently, staring down at a face they haven’t in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” The word comes off abruptly from someone too soft-spoken for their shouts to be actually effective, but who always carried this certain weight and influence that could be easily explained on the Weberian concept of authority, for Yoon Jeonghan has always been such a charismatic figure.

Wonwoo is positive that if Seungcheol had never risen as captain, Jeonghan would have. Despite his non-existent plans on collecting followers, he could've been the leader of his own little sect because, for better or for worst, people would follow him regardless.

That’s partially the reason why their initial contact prepares a stiff Wonwoo to experience a reprisal of his short although effective argument with Seungcheol outside Seokmin’s room.

On that night Wonwoo had responded more than reacted and upon seeing the undeniable heat in Seungcheol’s gaze when he was first spotted, acted out of dread and only dread when opting for keeping his guard up. He thought it’d be for the best if he avoided adding fuel to the argument by trying to fend off Seungcheol’s verbal lash out.

He hid his face behind his hands a couple of times, all saggy shoulders, and found support on the nearer wall, but didn’t try to fight him on it at any moment. Wonwoo stood his ground, taking whatever came his way.

“I asked what you’re doing here,” Jeonghan insists, face taut with a mix of so many heavy feelings Wonwoo can’t even start to fathom. But surprise isn’t one of them, he is sure.

“I heard you the first time,” Wonwoo declares because Jeonghan isn’t the only one still able to communicate through words.

Lee Jihoon, who could disappear before one’s eyes for being the fastest to dive in the pool from a starting block, snickers loudly and to Wonwoo’s ears, his disdain bounces off the walls, echoing all across an empty and silent locker room. “Don’t be a fucking smart-ass. You’re clearly in the wrong here and we’re the ones who should be coming at you after you’ve done. Where—Were you? And why are you back?”

“Whatever you think you came back to, you won’t be finding here,” Jeonghan says almost aside, with an even smaller voice that should’ve risen if he really wanted to be heard over the sound of approaching steps that announce another rushed arrival, heavy eyes set on Wonwoo as if to inform him that he’s the only one being spoken to.

Eyes wide open in surprise, Seokmin has just jogged inside the windowless locker room. “What are you—” Jihoon moves quickly to jump him, and when Seokmin threatens to fight back, Jihoon threatens, too, to clasp a hand over his mouth.

“Jihoon, let him go,” Seungcheol warns walking past them to get to his locker, however making no move to release Seokmin from Jihoon’s grip. There’s no energy whatsoever in the way he asks Jihoon to cut the bullshit and Wonwoo doubts the captain is actually against the rest of the team putting him on the spot.

Lee Chan, whose confused eyes can’t manage to stop flittering between Wonwoo and the rest of the boys, is the third to get inside the room, being followed from close by Joshua, who seems to be the only one honestly preoccupied with how tight Jihoon pins Seokmin to the hard surface of a nearer locker.

Jihoon does let Seokmin go, but not without elbowing him in the ribs before. “Now that the entire team is here, can we go back to the part when Wonwoo tells us where he’s been during these last two years?”

“You don’t have to go harsh on him!”

“You shut it!”

“He vanished for two years! How are we supposed to ignore that? Am I the only one who remembers that Wonwoo was here one day but gone the next?” Jihoon argues or more like begs for some common sense from the others. “For two weeks we thought he was late for the beginning of classes but would show up eventually, do you remember that? Do any of you still remember this or have I gone insane? He didn’t say goodbye, didn’t answer to any of our calls for months and we had to learn he would take the entire semester out through Coach because he couldn’t even be a man and tell us himself!”

Jihoon uses his impatient intonation, but his words tell a story that is so terrible that it has Seungkwan, one of the team’s breaststrokers along with Chan and Seokmin himself, averting his eyes from Wonwoo for the first time since dragging him inside. He keeps silent, however.

“Lee, c’mon,” Joshua intercedes. During arguments he somehow could either be found stirring up shit with a devilish and playful smirk or breaking it off, should someone step any boundaries and take it to heart. “We don’t have to go there again. It’s gone. We should’ve been over it by now.”

On the new realm of peace Joshua’s statement should bring, Chan peeks at Wonwoo from over Jeonghan’s right shoulder with interest, although evidently dumbfounded with his presence. “Are you back to school now? Are you back in the team?”

The door to Seungcheol’s locker, the first of a row of others, is pulled open with roughness enough to have not only Wonwoo’s, but some other heads as well turning on his direction. “Isn’t it obvious that he isn’t?” Seungcheol snaps in order to shut down the idea. “He would be back again and for what? Throw everything out the window again. Would you want him to return? Would any of you want him back?”

Wonwoo knows they wouldn’t and that much is established. He didn’t expect them to have put him in a necklace or anything like that, and he could never be entirely prepared for all the rocks they were to throw at him, but oh, he tried.

“Wonwoo’s return to the team would outshine our current team’s star, no?”

“What about you, Seungcheol? Would you want him back?” Seungcheol’s sarcasm seems to prompt in Jeonghan the need to redirect his attention to someone else that isn’t Wonwoo. “Shit, man, enlighten us on how okay you would be with his return. As far as I know, out of all of us, you were the one who resented Wonwoo the most!”

“As expected from Yoon Jeonghan, losing your temper as soon as someone brings up our star Mingyu.”

Wonwoo is getting lost on their conversation, not quite understanding what is going on as they no longer seem to address his screw-ups. 

On Seungcheol’s impromptu comeback, Jeonghan redirects his aim to Seokmin. “And you stood with him, listened to him trying to cool it off like the good boy you are! Why do you even bother with how we’ll treat Wonwoo or not when your best pal talked more ill of him than all of us combined?”

“I never agreed with the things he said about Wonwoo, but I wouldn’t let a friend on his own just because you wanted me to! I was trying to help while all of you started fighting each other and closed yourselves in your little group when we were supposed to be a team! I didn’t give Cheol my back that time and I wouldn’t do it when Wonwoo showed up to my room to say he was back—“

A single knock has all heads turning to the entrance door.

"We're all nude here,” Chan discloses unceremoniously and prompted by the poke Seungkwan delivers to his ribs. “Don't come in!"

 _“Is Kim finished?”_ Coach Kang asks from the hallways, voice a unique blend of authority and consideration just as Wonwoo remembers from all those advices the relatively short woman with the body of a retired swimmer and usually dressed in unbiased shades of black, would give after beckoning him over to the edge of the pool and speeches on the microphone while having her athletes standing on both her sides as if to proudly present them to crowded bleachers during these events. _“Tell him to hurry up and come to the office!”_

Jeonghan goes up on his heels as if it’ll make his voice travel further. “He’s not! Said he’d shower in the dorms!”

They make a team effort to go absurdly quiet for the following seconds, certainly waiting to hear her steps fading away to go back to business. Wonwoo hasn’t teamed up with these seven boys in a long time but grips tight to the belief that their fear of being caught any minute is what causes a shudder to flow down his backbone. It surely can’t be on account of finally noticing that Mingyu is missing from this reunion since the beginning.

As absurd as it is to imagine Mingyu out of the team when swimming meant so much to him, Seokmin had mentioned his name only once since his return and if it wasn’t for that night at the convenience store, Wonwoo would’ve wondered if Mingyu was still around at all or his mind was acting up again.

An impatient hiss gets to his ear and he notices he’s been staring to his lap, so he raises his eyes to search for whoever’s speaking to him now.

Has he shrunk on his seat again or it’s them who’ve grown even taller while he spaced out and thought of someone he shouldn’t?

Another voice finally tugs Wonwoo back to their argument, but he still feels highly strung when he notices he is no longer being spoken to. The team, or what’s left of it, start to argue and hiss to each other’s faces again instead of fighting him, who’s not even the epicenter of it anymore but a piece left out to watch what he caused them.

“…Our room?” It’s Chan questioning his roommate. “Wonwoo was in our room?”

“Can’t you see you’re a hypocrite, Seokmin?” Jihoon scowls taking his palms to his face, hiding his obvious frustration. “How long have you known he was back? How could you not even bother mentioning it to any of us? For how long we would have to wait to know?”

“It was a particular convo,” Seungcheol replies head-on as he tucks his arms inside the sleeves of a more worn-out version of the brand new hoodie with the Computer Science class logo he paraded through their campus streets in. “What do you even have to do with it? It isn’t like we have to participate you in every little thing that concerns our personal matters…”

“Are you playing dumb right now?” Jihoon scoffs again, not backing down. “Are you? Don’t act like you don’t know what you did was wrong. We’re a hundred percent aware you’re set on asshole mode since Wonwoo quit but that’s no excuse. How can you tell us this doesn’t concern the team? Has your head been so deep up your ass that you forgot how a captain should deal with things and think of what’s best for the team? You can’t address it as you would with a personal matter when it affects all of us.”

“Let’s chill ourselves down… I already… I already knew Jeon was back.” Joshua throws one hand in the air and heaves a sigh to surrender a tiring battle. The cat is out of the bag.

Jihoon has betrayal all over his face and his jaw has literally dropped. 

“Hansol is friends with his new roommate and they met, so he told me.”

“I did too.” Jeonghan draws back for a split second and Wonwoo thinks this is the first time this afternoon he’s seeing him so unsure of how to proceed, but he hides it well behind the pause he takes to fold his arms over his chest, shifting the weight of one leg to another. “I heard he was back, actually, but we’re always talking about how we’re better off without him and I assumed we could just ignore his presence.”

“We’re a team. We should’ve been participated no matter what your opinion is,” Chan restates rather disappointed. And then adds, even lower: “The four of you shouldn’t have kept from us that Wonwoo was back.”

It may be because it’s Chan who says that and because he never really went against the majority since he was often worried about being seen as the weakest link in the team and thus developing this willingness to please everyone - and not in the most positive way possible -, but Wonwoo’s ears are met with a deep silence.

Their argument seems to have finally reached its summit. Down is the only way now, and so they start nosediving.

“I’m gonna _get_ him!”

Seungkwan, who has remained strangely silent for the whole time, jumps from his privileged spot only one meter away from Wonwoo and throws his hands in the air, trying to reach his neck. As a reflex, Wonwoo jerks his own body backward to hit the wall in an uncoordinated fashion, for he is no ballerina but at least is where he needs to in order to avoid being strangled to unconsciousness by a feral Seungkwan.

It all happens in a blur and he doesn’t see how he end ups being the one with his hands on Seungkwan’s biceps in the end, not forcing him away, but still supporting the male’s weight and maybe even aiding him, should he lose balance while trying to wring his neck. 

“You'll end up getting hurt,” Wonwoo warns with a serious mumble. Seungkwan could’ve lost his balance and bumped his head on Wonwoo’s. He could’ve gotten himself a bump on his head and complained for hours, driving everyone crazy, because that’s how Seungkwan is.

Chan’s arms circling Seungkwan’s chest coax Seungkwan to yanking his own from Wonwoo’s firm grasp. “Is that a threat? I'll get you! I’ll get you! Now we're moving on to threats?” he pushes, being softly dragged to as far from Wonwoo as possible inside that secluded space. Seungkwan leaves no room for Wonwoo to explain that he _wouldn’t_ threaten him. How could he when he's so disproportionally outnumbered?

“Stop it, Seungkwan!” Joshua pleads pushing his body off the wall and between Seungkwan and Wonwoo, hands raised to each boy. “I said stop it, and now I mean all of you! I know you are still angry at him but I'm not gonna lie, I couldn’t care less about it. It's all bullshit and I'm tired of feeling so butthurt about Wonwoo quitting. Then I could have punched him but it's been 2 years! It's alright, he gave up! He was weak but I forgive him," Joshua reports, and Wonwoo’s positive it’s out of whatever’s left of that team loyalty that also stops the American from taking down their photo from his room’s wall.

“Well, I can’t! I don’t!”

Joshua lowers his hands and twirls to stare at Jihoon. “Well, it’s too bad. You would feel miraculously lighter if you could just let it go for once and all. But that’s on you.”

“No, that’s not on me!” Jihoon bites back with all he got. “What do you even mean? It pisses me off to know he’s the one who chose this and now I’m the one supposed to be the bigger person in the room and pretend I’ve forgiven him for giving up and letting the team down when we needed him the most. He doesn’t get to pick up where he left off after two years away! I don’t know how long he plans on staying this time, but things won’t go back to what they used to be! They won’t because they can’t! That’s not how it works!”

“We’re all angry at him! We’re all pissed off that he took a couple of minutes off this and came back as if nothing ever happened,” Seungkwan shoots adamantly, no beats missed, with this impassive note to his words. “I cannot be the only one wanting to fucking strangle him.”

Seungcheol shuts his locker again and walks up to them after dropping his towel inside the big basket of dirty towels near the door. “Let’s see. Since you want me to solve this so desperately and because you really think so low of me, as if I don’t give a flying fuck about the team’s opinion, I’m officially calling all of you for voting.”

“Mingyu isn’t here,” Chan remembers them.

“I say raise your hand if you think Wonwoo is a pretentious asshole and should get the fuck out of our lives,” Seungcheol instructs with a mocking tone.

“I’ll vote for Mingyu,” Jeonghan decides, raising both his hands as he stares directly into Wonwoo’s eyes.

Seungkwan raises his hand followed by Jihoon. Chan is the last to do it, and, compared to his teammates, he does it with little to no conviction. Suddenly, Seokmin and Joshua are the only ones with their hands lowered. 

He deserves it for ruining it for everybody else and doing so without even a heads up, a ‘hey, I’ve completely lost my shit, so it’s for the best if I go home’, Wonwoo thinks. The reasons for them to get along again after all these years and no responses from his end after the several times they seemed to take turns in their attempts of contacting him are far and few.

“There you have it!” Seungcheol announces lowering his hand. “The first time in the past two years that we’ve decided anything as a team without a three-hour-long argument!” 

Before leaving the rest of his teammates behind to hit the shower stalls on the back, a helpless Joshua calls the voting a major demonstration of stupidity. With a hand on his shoulder, he ensures Wonwoo that it doesn’t matter what they think, what he said still stands - or that’s what Wonwoo believes he is hearing at least, for each of Joshua’s words end up doused by the rapid and heavy thrum inside his ribcage.

Wonwoo barely puts any effort into snatching a thankful glance at Joshua and all he sees is Joshua’s flip-flops shuffle away from the group, finding in this the incentive he needs to leave too.

To avoid a sleepless night recounting the pros of being back after the short yet epic chain of events that worked as a watershed in his life and because it feels too risky to stay, one more time he declines Seokmin’s request to ignore them and wait for him to quickly change his clothes, instead hurriedly getting to his feet to dip.

On his imminent departure, Seokmin’s cheeks redden, his brows dip on his forehead and he wipes with the back of his hand something that Wonwoo hopes is a bead from his wet hair off his cheek. “Fuck you, guys! Look what you’ve done!” he accuses and shoves the same hand to Jihoon’s chest.

Seokmin only catches up with Wonwoo on the main hall of his dorm. 

“Woo. I’m so sorry,” Seokmin, whose hair covers his bright expressive eyes, calls after Wonwoo, words teeming with remorse as he jumps over the electronic turnstiles at the dorm's entrance.

“Isn’t your fault. It’s fine,” Wonwoo assures him quickening his steps, nearing desperation to finally escape to his room.

Wonwoo avoids the elevators on the main hall in order to turn a corner and pull the handlebars of the double fire doors to the stairs, but still, Seokmin follows him.

“It’s not fine, c’mon,” the swimmer says on his back as soon as Wonwoo starts climbing the poorly illuminated stairwell, two steps at a time. “I wanted to tell you but I didn’t know how to bring this up. Felt wrong to spring so much information on you when you just got back. Especially considering—“

Wonwoo snatches a glance at his friend from over his shoulder, trying to understand why Seokmin continues to follow him when he said multiple times that he’s okay and everything is okay and will continue okay if he lets him alone. “Considering the way I left?” he asks, not bothering to get into details. 

“Yes,” Seokmin replies, deflated. “But this is something I think we should definitely talk about now, after all this mess. Team has a different dynamic nowadays and I may have omitted a few things from our calls.”

The swimmer sighs in defeat again and his steps come to a quick halt on the moment they get to the second floor. Two more to go.

“You caught me off guard when you showed up at our door!” he confesses but now Wonwoo, who hasn’t stopped walking not even once, hears the echo on his voice more than his voice itself, and this part of him that would appreciate not being so in the dark in regards of what exactly happened after he left convinces him to slow down for a bit.

One step at a time now. Slowly.

_“This we know already! But what I didn’t know was how to approach the subject without making you feel like you were the pivot of everything that happened in the meantime. After what happened to you...”_

Wonwoo knows Seokmin is trying to be careful here, but after what he saw in the gymnasium, his words don’t sound a code particularly difficult to crack. Still, Seokmin’s voice is even lower now and the suspense makes all the parts of his body suddenly wary and tense, so he stops walking as soon as he gets to the third floor, leaning his body against the curve to his floor to wait in a way he can see Seokmin before he’s seen first. 

So briskly, Wonwoo’s thoughts flitter back to their first meeting after so long, but he had been way too nervous to remember the exact words exchanged between them. That was too early in the day, too. He didn’t ask about the others and Seokmin hadn’t mentioned them until their contact felt less awkward, keeping his comments vague, disclosing the news about Chan being his roommate now, but never going into details about their routine and instead focusing on bringing up the competitions the team will be participating throughout their last year of school.

He was still testing the waters after all. He wasn’t actually expecting a full report whatsoever.

Before eventually gathering the courage to knock on Seokmin’s door, Wonwoo would feel a small stingy sensation in the pity of his stomach whenever their teammates came to his mind. The more he thought of them, the more chances of it growing into flames that licked his insides, consumed all his flesh until there were only bones. Similar episodes happened more times than he can count on his fingers during those two years, and in the end, he was left unable to feel anything else but the pain of having a recently healed cut thumbed again with all one’s might.

So he’d rather shun the subject altogether because nothing ever good came from his memories of his first time around these people.

Now he feels uneasy and antsy again, a car without brakes, bound to hit another head-on at any moment.

Seokmin’s steps get close but Wonwoo abandons his plan of keeping a certain distance, instead of awaiting the male to catch up. And he does in silence, heaving one or several too many hopeless and exhausted sighs, until he stops in front of Wonwoo with his hands on his hips, face tortured as if he’s in such an unfortunate position.

“Think I forgot how fast you are,” he pants out. “Can we slow down—I swam! A lot! C’mon.”

Wonwoo folds his arms protectively over his chest. “Shouldn’t you be used to it by now,” he asks, only as amused as the situation allows him to. He’s aware Seokmin has tired his body out at the relay and that Wonwoo may be out of shape but at least he’s desperation powered.

“Ooh. Uh. Hang on.” Seokmin stumbles backward, leaning against the pointy corner of two walls. “I think my blood pressure is down. Maybe I should…”

Wonwoo detaches his body from the wall and moves forward to quickly aid him. Then, he is pushing Seokmin by his broad shoulders to sit down on the steps.

“You need me to take you to my room?” he asks in the following minute.

Seokmin declines the invite for now with his head. “You do know I wouldn’t say bad things about you or agree with whatever Seungcheol said, right?”

Wonwoo faces away, long fingers grazing the rough skin of his palm to cope with the discomfort that seeing Seokmin glancing at him so apologetically causes him. Seokmin has kept his secret for so long and maybe telling the others what he knew about the last night spent with Wonwoo could have eased things for himself, but he didn’t. He zipped his lips and made good of his promise.

“He didn’t mean most of the things he accused you of. A lot started to change when you left, Woo. We had to go on without one of us and continue being a team. And don’t get me wrong, it worked. We’re still a team now, the competing kind, but I suppose we’re lacking in the whole friendship part,” he mourns.

It’s clear Jihoon has pressed Seokmin too tight in the locker rooms and now he has trouble breathing. They should cut the talking because this won’t do Seokmin any good, but none of them makes a move to stop the male.

However still pondering whether it’s too soon to find out what exactly the others been through since his departure or whether it’ll be too much and too soon, Wonwoo decides to take a seat on the cold surface of the step below Seokmin’s own, that way blocking completely the passway to the fourth floor.

“After mulling over the reason for being this way, now I reckon that we had to find a way to continue as a unit even if the team was somehow falling apart, but we may have shut down and closed ourselves to each other in a way. Cheol became captain but he didn’t know when we went wrong and he started to make things different from what we knew. He managed to keep us as a team despite all the fights. It must count for something.” Seokmin shifts to stare at him, forcing Wonwoo to look his way albeit not finding it in him to raise his eyes from the wall in front of him yet. He knows Seokmin’s face is twisted in concern again. “Listen,” Seokmin continues to fill the gap because Wonwoo isn’t saying anything. “It was hard to watch you go. You weren’t the only one to leave either. I couldn’t just tell you like that, I didn’t want you to think you’re responsible for all the shit that went down.”

Hearing about the issues that his sudden departure caused to the team and imagining the exhaustion he put them through makes him feel stupid and egoistical on top of it. He had expected to find them against him, and he would deal with it because he’s a big boy, but knowing some of them have parted ways is ultimately worse because, albeit growing immediately close to the eldest members of the team, having the freshmen being able to properly finish the three days of try-outs outnumbering the senior members of the team had somehow brought the eleven of them together.

To Wonwoo it was nice not to feel so alone amongst so many upperclassmen that had already gotten the hang of life after high school. He had new friends who were at the exact same step as him to be together with every day and all times, whether to improve in and outside the pool, make plans for the following school years or make him feel comfortable in the place of the unknown.

It leaves him to wonder how much his former friends resent him for giving up so easily after realizing their convos about growing together were lies, even if he knows this is far from his truth. Being part of the team with them made Wonwoo feel glorious. Noticing he needed to walk away hurt and left him in shambles. He blamed himself for being too weak for the longest time, even if he still can’t picture a different exit he could’ve used when things got bad on his end.

“It’s not only because of your departure. Most friendships do tend to peter out with time,” Seokmin ensures him one last time before their silence is interrupted by giggles of an approaching group of students, too distant to be considered near. “I can see you’re not in the mood to delve into the subject any further so I’ll shut up now,” he says, but when the group is close enough to be spotted, he is the first to get up to open space for them to get downstairs and beckon Wonwoo to do the same.

Wonwoo tries his very best not to let his face show how hard this talk is for him but he’s not so good at this job. He feels the weight of the heavy frown etched onto his face as he stands on feeble legs.

“I have no right to be mad at you,” he tells his only friend left when they’re alone again, walking down the hallway to his room, just to make sure.

Wonwoo goes inside his room first, fully intending on clearing space on his bed for Seokmin and collect the second-hand books his former-boss told him to choose from the dusty shelves when he resigned to go back to school, and stack them atop his study desk, currently placed beside the closet.

The last box with his belongings sits, now empty, at the foot of his bed. Having spent the last days inside the dorm unless he got to eat at the dining hall with Seokmin, Wonwoo took his time to make the room less messy with Soonyoung’s help. As brought up by Hansol a couple of days prior, Soonyoung’s winter readings included a book called The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up and he had been quite eager to put the author’s wisdom in practice or something alike, but Wonwoo didn’t mind being his guinea pig if that meant help putting things on place.

Soonyoung had explained to him all he needed to know about the room and things he didn’t need to know but heard attentively anyways, like the bathroom door that keeps creaking—it needs to be greased; and their desks, both a little wobbly—the legs need to be fixed. But things have been going great with Soonyoung so far and Wonwoo thinks his new roommate is all kinds of alright, even if they only know each other for less than five days.

“The only possible reason for you to be here after exhausting yourself swimming is hating your roommate’s guts,” his current roommate calls his former roommate out with a little frown that only reaches his eyebrows. “Who are you rooming with?”

“Lee Chan. He’s in Public Relations too so you may share a few classes. He’s a hardhead who’ll scorn you in front of his friends,” Seokmin admits rather grimly after stepping off his shoes at the door, and falls backward on Wonwoo’s bed, looking right at home. “I’m here because Wonwoo and I are sneaking in beers—“

Wonwoo grimaces in silence and fumbles around his pens, laying them parallel to his books even if they’ll disappear in the following weeks because he can’t keep things for shit.

“Wonwoo? Sneaking beers in?” a surprised Soonyoung prompts sat cross-legged on the edge of his bed.

“Ya. You clearly don’t know Wonwoo like me,” Seokmin sighs in this amusing and amused fashion that lights up the mood. “This dude knows how to drink!”

Wonwoo pushes his chair out and swivels it around to sit on it back to face the duo, then rests his chin on the back of the chair, preparing to shut down the offer. “I have my first class early in the morning tomorrow. I can’t slack off, you know.”

“I promise you won’t,” Seokmin ensures on a happier note, face turned on him now. “Let’s celebrate what could be the last year you’ll see your record on that timer because, I’ll tell you that, your boy Minnie may have lost the relay today but is on his way to close this year as team’s most valuable swimmer.”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek and ponders.

“That’s a low blow even for you.”

*******

Albeit the morning arrives nothing alike past ones, with students up with the winter sun that graces the campus with a pale-yellow kind of day, it can be said that Wonwoo isn’t nearly as encouraged as he should to attend the first day of classes.

With the weather warmer than the previous day and Soonyoung claiming to himself the duty to flick his cheeks in order to have him up already, still, Wonwoo has to give all he’s got to get out of bed. He loathes getting dressed when he’s still barely awake, even more having late students shouldering past him while they carry their luggage left and right in a rush, as he forces his way past his building’s exit.

Some seniors look positively surprised to have him back to school and by the time Wonwoo, Hansol and Soonyoung leave one of the coffee shops within the campus after a quick coffee run before classes, he has lost track of the number of times his gaze crossed with someone who had already been staring while he stood in line. With hindsight, his years away have made him more prone to being bothered by it, however having the initial shock passed, the vast majority of those who know him from other times seem more at ease in the presence of a face they surely didn’t expect to see again and some of them even risk timid waves and walking up to him to ask how he’s doing.

Out of the students that greet him just inside the farthest building in the campus, only a small portion seems to look forward to being back to classes, and Wonwoo ends up tuning them out for a moment when he spots the kiosk where notices from extra activities clubs and societies are being displayed in colorful A4 sheets but are so cluttered one really has to browse through to find what they’re looking for.

He flips the sheets of flyers and notices willing to find something dull and safe like Math or Debate instead of challenging and competitive like the Orchestra, where he’ll have to actually fight at least other fifteen acoustic guitar players’ throats for a spot in something he isn’t even as brilliant as them at. His only talent lies in swimming and this isn’t an option anymore, so his hands are pretty much tied here.

Scooping layers and layers of pages, Wonwoo runs onto Xu Minghao’s signature, the first on a list of ten other names. At the top of the page, the word ‘Environmental club’ is designed creatively in leaf patterns and the sheet is recycled because they’re the real deal. The flyer informs they’ll be holding weekly meetings on Fridays, 6:00 pm, and those interested should drop their names below.

Wonwoo removes a lonely pin from the board and pins all the pages in his hands to the side to rummage inside the bag drooping off his shoulder and pursue his schedule. After a quick check, he collects a pen from his things on a whim and signs his name too, even if the closest he’s ever gotten from any activism was rescuing a stray cat from the streets in high school. His parents didn’t even let him _keep it_ and at the end of the week, he had to send the ball of fur off to a cousin who would take better care of it than he ever could.

His odd flash of confidence lasts for a tad more than the seconds he takes to finish signing up. He even gets to tuck his schedule back inside his bag, although not the pen he holds, and that his mom has gifted him on his last day home, for good luck.

Joining a collective he has no interest in under the guise of rekindling broken ties with people he was once too close with looks like a not so clever idea now that he puts some thought on it. Especially now that he knows about how everyone drifted apart on his departure, how he ruined not only his chance of excelling in life, as well as something that goes beyond him.

They voted. They want him far away from them. He wants too. It’s better if he cut his losses, right?

It is with a heavy heart that Wonwoo scratches his name out quickly and marches to his second class of the semester.

This time not bumping on acquaintances or former-classmates, Wonwoo gets to a classroom that’s teeming with muffled conversation and he has to shoulder a few students ambling between desks to find any available seat near the walls, where he can be out of the center of attention should someone particularly interested in his brief role in the swim team attend this class.

Students are still hurrying inside when a middle-aged man steps in and places a briefcase that looks too light to be filled with anything at all on top of the professor’s desk. The man reminds Wonwoo of a younger version of his late grandfather and that’s pretty much all he needs to sympathize with the smiley man almost instantly.

After introductions, the professor starts dimming the lights to showcase an introductory documentary, and suddenly they’re all off. Opening credits start rolling on the whiteboard but Wonwoo still has a little tight-lipped smile of his own and one hand cupping his cheek when the door opens again and in walks Mingyu.

There is no doubt left that he hasn’t walked inside the wrong classroom when Mingyu takes an available seat near the middle, basically on his direction, yet so distant that Wonwoo wouldn’t be able to make out his features if not for the oscillating colors projected on the board, and starts emptying so casually the contents of his pencil case on his desk.

Mingyu always had jillions of pens and pencils and _stuff_ he’d never let any of his teammates touch for too long. Observing Mingyu do so, Wonwoo’s heart turns a quick pirouette at the sudden memory of pointless bickering in the gymnasium’s bleachers when they often did homework together because their free time had narrowed down with practices for the second-semester competitions.

Admittedly, Wonwoo didn’t have a preference for Mingyu’s cool sharpies and 6B pencils over his own 2Bs, but still, he tried to reach for them only to have his hand smacked by Mingyu’s own - to Wonwoo those were only repeated attempts of having Mingyu letting _go_ of something he held onto so dearly and for what. Patiently he waited for the day Mingyu would finally hand over his pencils, pens, and whatnot after choosing his friends over his things because from the beginning their dynamic had been somewhat seeded by Wonwoo’s vicious _urges_ when it came to Mingyu.

Enrolling in Probability and Statistics class was obviously a mistake, yet Wonwoo inexplicably endures the longest two hours of his life, trying his best to pay attention to whatever’s on the white board-turned-movie screen. Counting the odds of Economics and Architecture students being reunited in a classroom by Math and its variety of branches won’t help him in the slightest with his plan of keeping the distance from all the issues from his past, the team, and every person related to it. 

As much as Wonwoo would love to stick to the promise of eating well, following the first batch of end credits on the screen, he doesn’t wait for the lights to be flicked back on to glide out of the classroom before any other student, hauling his backpack with him, and he skips lunch to hit the library computers, prioritizing his research of available classes he can take to replace the empty spot he’ll have in his schedule once he drops the Statistics class he just finished attending.

The beginning of the school year is pure struggle with students crashing school’s online platform for a few hours every day as they battle each other for easier classes and even nicer professors, and Wonwoo deflates as an air balloon at the sight of a bunch of packed classes with no available spots. Be them related to his major or subjects he has no interest in – they’re all packed.

Resorting to find any student who may be interested on a spot in Probability and Statistics and willing to switch with him, Wonwoo posts an ad on the online notice board and attaches his phone number to it, but it's soon the end of his lunch break and he hasn't received any reply.

Throughout his third class of the day, he checks the phone hidden below his desk and between his thighs minutely, shortening the interval between new taps on the refresh button of the webpage on each attempt. When Wonwoo averts his eyes from his phone for what feels like the first time since taking a seat on the back of his classroom, he notices there is something incredibly wrong with the words written on the huge whiteboard for they are so confusing, to the point where he can’t even read them properly anymore, sentences making no sense whatsoever.

Wonwoo wonders if he could have mistaken classrooms but he’s in the right place and the number on the door is quite right, therefore things should make sense because Macroeconomics is all about analyzing Economy phenomena and he has always taken pride on how good he used to be at it, but somehow nothing seems to make sense anymore.

Wonwoo fits his phone inside his pocket in favor of his attempt to situate himself and catch up with the rest of his classmates, but he can’t even concentrate for thirty seconds at a time, for his mind wanders back to his issue after each attempt. He must find a way out of this mess, but he can’t even go through practical alternatives anymore as, no matter how hard he tries, his mind flitters back and forth between his need to get this done and his class’ subject.

If he doesn’t drop Probability and Statistics, it means he can’t even imagine another alternative that doesn’t include having to deal with Mingyu for an entire semester. If he does drop the class it means he isn’t getting the credit he needs to finish the course before time is due and he’ll be kicked out of University, and his parents, who have always been so patient with him, will have had enough of his messes and feel so disappointed in him that he’ll have no one else to look out for him anymore.

He will be all by himself once his parents do like the friends he used to have when he was a better version of himself, and decide he’s not worthy. They won’t give him another chance. He will never get to finish school either because he can’t do anything right and he’ll never achieve anything because for the past two years he has grown so keen on ruining everything as if he does it by default and almost with a sense of pride to it.

“Wonwoo?” The call that comes from behind him it’s all qualms and the first thing Wonwoo swears to make sense after his ears tuned out everything else completely.

Undoubtedly swept away, hours had passed him by while he felt scatterbrained with new thoughts overlapping previous ones before he could even finish them through, the sensation of being trapped in a situation he couldn’t get out of consuming him and his brain short-circuiting until it finally stalled out completely.

“I can’t do this,” he had told himself with words, real words that slipped past his lips in addictive rhythm as he quickened his steps to exit the building.

And then Minghao’s voice came, encouraging him to look over his shoulder to peer unenthusiastically at yet another member of the “Fuck Wonwoo!” club.

“I thought some asshole had pranked the list again when I saw a scratch that looked a lot like your name on it,” the male says, casting Wonwoo a questioning look while holding a sheet of recycled paper in his hands. Wonwoo immediately makes out the bold, leafy letters reading _Environmental Club_.

He’s back to the kiosk of cluttered ads for clubs and events, only a few meters far from the exit, where he can even see the grass through double doors, now pushed open as if to invite him out. Running is all it takes for him to escape from yet another argument, but he remembers how much of a nutcase he’d look. And noticing this is a bad idea is a good sign that his brain has finally decided to work properly again.

“Are you done with your classes for today?” 

It’s only three in the afternoon of his first day of classes and he sounds weak even to his own head, but yes, the idea of calling it a day is highly tempting due to his obvious lack of energy.

“This list is full. You have time to walk me to the club’s room to print another one?”

Wonwoo wonders if he’s hearing right.

Minghao sounds nothing alike the ever confrontational Jihoon or waspish Jeonghan. He doesn’t tell him to go suck a fat dick and other obscenities alike Seungcheol. He doesn’t jump him like Seungkwan either, or fears fighting his friends in order to side with him as he desires to, as Chan did – a tipsy Seokmin had nagged him about how attached to him his roommate acts when it’s only the two of them, but ignore his presence almost completely in front of the rest of the team. Wonwoo, who had pretended to drink his beer only so he wouldn’t frustrate the only person who supports him, could only recall how Chan wasn’t one to go against the majority when times were simpler and they were in this together with no signs of bad blood, either.

Wonwoo checks the list on Minghao’s hands. Although his tone is calm, Minghao waits for his reply mindlessly fiddling with it, which edges have started to crumple. Whether because Minghao sounds surprised _and_ curious even a numb Wonwoo knows this is infinitely better than surprised _and_ pissed or because the rest of his former teammates can’t stand looking at him and having him back altogether, Wonwoo decides to accompany Minghao.

Because Minghao still has a few minutes before his next class, they cross the first floor in a slow-pace, taking the opportunity to bask in the timid sun rays filtering through the closed windows of the hallway.

“Are you back to uni then?” Minghao finally asks, to which question Wonwoo nods. “Thought I’d never see you again. Oh wow. What have you been up to? How you’re doing?”

Putting on some effort into rummaging the depths of his memories, Wonwoo comes up with no answer, he only now notices. It’s not even that he doesn’t know the answer but rather a case of not having anything to say, no exciting episodes to add to that once promising list of cool experiences that was born as soon as he joined University as a green and overly excited 19-year-old.

Wonwoo knows this is only the first “what you been up to” of many others to come, and for this reason, he feels pathetic. “Nothing much,” he replies, tone flat. “Just existing most of the time.”

“Existing. That’s important. Existing is really good.”

“You would change your mind after the first six months.”

Minghao chuckles, partly diverted, partly oblivious to how serious Wonwoo is being right now. Wonwoo spares him of all of this by forcing a small smirk past his lips.

“You still swim?”

Wonwoo merely shakes his head. The idea of returning to a pool after so long often has him feeling some type of way. “Haven’t gotten in a pool not even once in the last two years, let alone doing it for sports.”

A thoughtful Minghao hums and pulls a funny face. “Don’t think they would accept you back with your current body shape anyways. I think subscriptions for chess club are open though.”

Always being more on the thin side, Wonwoo has long lost the graceful build he had achieved by using every free moment he had to work himself to exhaustion during his never-ending year as a competitive swimmer and when Coach used to pack both him and Mingyu lunchboxes behind everyone’s back for the nights they had to stay behind practicing overtime or working out at the gym facilities.

Being instructed to swim 20,000 yards per week would have been a piece of cake two years ago. Now, however, Wonwoo is positive he is barely able to do a fourth of this and be expected to raise and flex his arms to tuck his clothes back on afterward without having to swallow down at least one painful wince. He doubts his body would ever welcome the exercise again.

Wonwoo huffs as sincerely as he dares, mindlessly warranting the Social Work student to shorten the virtual distance between them.

“Jokes aside, bet you could still do well in it if you wanted to. It’s probably your opponents’ luck you’re only after a diploma and whatnot these days,” Minghao ensures him with a smirk of his own. “And I’d have to join you in chess club if we’re talking about muscles or, well, the lack of them.”

“No, no. You’re alright. You’re great,” he demurs quickly. Like him, Minghao had been more on the thin side since they were freshmen in spite of their ceaseless practicing. All in all, he looks perfectly fine with those couple centimeters he has definitely gained over the past years and his newly acquired habit of brushing his thin fingers over his now grown hair strands.

“Seems like a long time ago since we were all together, right?”

Wonwoo presses his tongue between the teeth in the back of his mouth, not letting it go as he tries to cancel one pain by causing himself another. However, he was so out minutes prior that maybe simply biting on his tongue won’t do. 

“Seokmin said you wanted out of the team—“ he converses, awkwardly as ever. That’s him pinching his thigh, biting on his tongue to cancel his hurt, only with words this time. “Why would you leave, Minghao?”

Wonwoo observes as the male seems to tense on his side. The proximity they had achieved minutes prior is lost again. Wonwoo knows he messed up bringing up a subject Minghao is most definitely through at this point in life. It’s unfair, so unfair that he is only now able to deal with events that his friends had to work around while he was away and have now adjust to. So briskly, Wonwoo is now back to put their beliefs down.

“Yeah. Mm. You know me, Wonwoo… I just wanted out. I was tired of all the fights, the push and shove. The frowns I received when they assumed I was taking one side over another when everything began to shatter and no one did anything to fix it. There was always someone bound to be unhappy and trying to please everyone gets old after a while. It just wasn't fun as our first year together.” Minghao pauses to fumble with the pockets of the green tracksuit covering up his long legs. “To sum it up, it was alright at first but after that, we just reckoned you had given up and left for good, and then it wasn’t alright anymore.”

Admittedly, just as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, a semester quickly turned into a year, and even after Wonwoo’s distress seemed to ebb in the following days, returning to the team became a faraway option. Wonwoo knew he was essentially fucking up his own life by jeopardizing a promising future, however the idea of leaving it all behind settled into him very easily and until it felt normal, a reliable and undeniable truth that didn’t cross his mind most of the time anymore.

“We got used to the idea that you had moved on to whatever,” Minghao says rather too apologetically. Wonwoo doesn’t think he deserves being treated with such empathy though. “And some of us were able to accept it, whereas others opted for pettiness and put the blame for every little thing that happened on you when you weren’t even around anymore to defend yourself.”

He knows Minghao is doing this thing when you are overly nice to someone so they don’t feel bad about messing something up big time. Even if the male doesn’t mention their anger toward him, he has had enough proof so far. Not that he needed them though; he knows it’s only his fault that his friends went through so much and some of them ended up sacrificing their interest for the team so they could leave this mess behind.

“Do you still talk to any of them?" he risks again with an even smaller voice. They have just crossed yet another classroom where students pull chairs from desks hurriedly as their feet scratch the floor. Classes have just begun again.

"I get to exchange a word or two with Josh in our building’s reunions with our RAs or halls and that’s about that.”

Again, no mention of Mingyu.

“Jihoon and I still share some classes but we’ve been interested in distinct disciplines of Social Work lately. On a happier note,” Minghao sounds suddenly excited, moving in a way he can give Wonwoo a good look, “since quitting the team Jihoon was absolutely clear I’ve lost my privilege of calling him by his last name and that’s why now I call him _Ji_. Assuming you’ve lost your privilege too, you may call him Ji too. He absolutely despises it.”

“I don’t think I’m calling him Ji, Minghao.”

“Your loss,” he jokes as they cross a window and the clarity from outside reveals the first full smile of his Wonwoo has seen in two years. It withers and disappears as soon as it comes, what has Wonwoo wondering if it was ever honest. “Graduation year is busy for everyone, I guess. Not the best of friends any more but not enemies either, not that this is a hard status to achieve when things have changed this much. It’s honestly hard to keep track of who’s friends with whom these days.”

“I had a preview at the relay. It’s absolute hell,” he confides genuinely. “They weren’t even fighting me. Just using my presence as an excuse to fight each other, I guess.”

“You attended that? It’s a miracle you survived to see another day! Thought they’d rip your arms out if they ever saw you again!”

Albeit escaping from being punched by Seungcheol that night, after the relay, he’d been positive someone would jab at him and he waited for it. The closest they’d gotten was Seungkwan attempt, but lucky him it never pushed forward.

“I just happened to be around.”

“Fighting each other for every stupid reason they can find is all they do now. Every guy who tried to join team after you left ended up quitting because no one seems to be able to put up with them anymore. I don’t even think Coach is holding tryouts this year.”

Wonwoo shrugs, though it seems pretty accurate to what went down inside the lockers.

“The only person I seemed to be able to talk to for more than ten minutes without an argument breaking was Jun. We’re still rooming. Have you talked to him yet?”

Given his tight schedule of moving back in and listening to his former friends confront him on more than one occasion, Wonwoo hasn’t talked to Junhui. But he has to sit on the question for a moment because he doesn’t know if he even plans to. Not paying a visit to Junhui at some point in the school year doesn’t seem realistic given the circumstances, but the courage isn’t there yet, not when he still fears what can be said during their much-needed talk.

On that night, Junhui had been the first to notice Wonwoo’s absence and look for him inside his room afterward. While the majority of their team had already returned to their homes to spend the holidays, Junhui stayed in school, willing to travel to China in early January, and making him company at least during the Christmas Eve celebration, put together in favor of students that couldn’t go home for whichever motives, had seemed a good idea to roommates Seokmin and Wonwoo.

Junhui heard every single word when he poured his heart out to his ears only, before Seokmin joined them inside their bathroom. Junhui held him tight against the tiles on the floor while straddling Wonwoo’s stomach to contain him. He’d pin him down as if he knew something that Wonwoo didn’t, or as if something unfortunate would happen if he let go. He pressed hard enough to turn it white and so tight that Wonwoo still felt the ghost touch of Junhui’s desperate grip on his arms for weeks afterwards.

Unlike the others, Junhui never had one or two parts of a puzzle impossible to be put together at hand. Junhui knows everything, he knows it all. So you see, talking to him would be infinitely harder than write his name down on a list to a club he never bothered to be a part of on his first time in this place.

“You know what? I was just checking the list when I saw you and I thought you were looking like you needed to be taken somewhere else. We don’t have to talk about it. I only brought up Juni because you said so you reunited with the others and perhaps you had met him too and he forgot to mention. It’s fine though.” Minghao appeals to that tranquility that is an inherent virtue of backstrokers to inform Wonwoo know he isn’t in a quest for unnecessarily complicated answers.

Wonwoo wonders if Minghao ever needed them in the first place, for he doesn’t seem worried with all the reasons that led Wonwoo out on his prime nor with the prologue of this long and terrifying tale whatsoever, even if this is a weird position for him to be in.

He sees he was wrong regarding ruining Minghao’s good time by bringing the team’s matters up, for now, he sees that the male is above all of this. Minghao has accepted what happened and moved on.

“We’re here.”

Wonwoo checks inside through the door’s window. He can’t spot anyone inside, but the tiny room looks lived-in with chunks of recycled paper above a desk pushed against the wall and its colorful and motivational posters. It gives off nice and cozy vibes, too.

“ _Jeon_. I may have made it sound like I can’t be friends with anyone out of the team anymore and I know it’s been two years since we last saw each other… But our first event open to the public is next week.” Minghao grabs him by the shoulders and his hands are gentle when he gives them one light yet reassuring squeeze. He showcases a compassionate, soft expression, too. There’s no ounce of pity there and Wonwoo appreciates the effort as much as the double entendre on the room’s poster that reads _Your future is with us_. “And if until then you find out you’re interested in additional credits or, well, _one_ friend, you know where to find me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is huge and dialogue on top of dialogue, but I suppose it's a bit of a revealing chapter. I'm not a 100% satisfied with how half of it turned out, but I'm happy to update. Thanks for your comments, kudos and for bearing with me?!  
> Feedback is always appreciated! I'd love to know what you think so far and which part of this story spikes your curiosity the most. 
> 
> See you soon!


	4. Snacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wonwoo receives an unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't spellcheck this chapter at all because I wanted to put this out asap, and I really should have because my english is... *waves hand on a general direction*... but you already know that. Pretend you don't see my spelling mistakes + any plot holes; I'll come fix soon.

_“Should I take him to the health center?”_

Like music playing in the room across the hall, the indistinct chatter that fills his ears is too distant for Wonwoo to be able to do more than sense the worried tone of someone’s velvety voice.

_“Or the ER, if they can’t help there.”_

His head weighs oddly, his neck feels sore, his eyelids are heavy with exhaustion and Wonwoo can’t properly see the responsible for all the whispering but discovers he is so absorbed by it, his body becomes one to the sound.

_"Don't. Isn't a good idea. Wonwoo wouldn’t like to be taken to the ER. Ah. It's a long story, but trust me when I say he wouldn't like to be taken there."_

Wonwoo hums from what he believes to be his bed, thankful for the recollection Seokmin still has of his preferences. 

The thought of being carried in a hospital bed with people dressed in white towering above him, palms to his chest and shoulders to pin him down to the cushioned surface so hard that they make breathing hard comes to him, and it’s so vivid the scent of ether and hand sanitizer prickles his nostrils.

They ask him to quiet down as if he’s a danger to himself but these chills running down his spine don’t let him and his feeble body writhes on that bed in spite of him. He wants to tell them that he would if he could but they interrupt him with a slew of questions—Those no one wants to hear. They want to know if he did it purposely if he tried to hurt himself intentionally but they don’t ask him that head-on, they’re careful with their words.

And it’s so messed up that they think he would be capable of such thing when he has only taken the wrong turn and had no intention of dying at that moment. He wanted the same thing as them - to quiet down. He only lacked the means.

_“You sure?”_

Wonwoo is back to his room and his eyes are finally open but all he can see are the shadows of the people in his room being projected on the ceiling above. He can’t move because he feels limp and, as previously, he can’t hold on to logical thoughts for long because his head hurts and his brain is all over the place as it tries to convince him that his fingers are made of foam and to see huge hay balls that appear behind his eyelids when he blinks are perfectly okay on a Winter night.

 _“He was burning when I got off classes and found him in bed with his cheeks flushed because of the fever. If his temperature continues to climb, then—_ “

Wonwoo struggles to open his heavy-lidded eyes after a particular long blink, and when he does he is met with deep silence. The lights are out but the room isn’t as dark as before. Another day is starting and when he attempts to crane his sweaty neck toward the window, he can see that the sky is gradually turning a pale shade of blue. 

He doesn’t stay conscious much longer than what takes him to form another illogical thought, and he’s knocked out again.

***

Blocking the door, Soonyoung doesn’t allow him out of the bedroom. Wonwoo thinks his roommate does it unconsciously because he hasn’t even tried to yet and so far remains on bed, dressed in his Monday clothes, which are nasty of smelly sweat.

“Didn’t think you’d be up until later. You burned for almost two days, remember?”

Barely.

Wonwoo of course remembers most of his talk with Minghao, and before that, his heart thrumming so loud in his ears and the words written on the whiteboard making little sense… The desperation for maybe ruining his second chance and disappointing his parents… And, finally, his head heavy on his neck while he walked home. After that, he can only remember sensations and fever dreams and leaps in time. 

“You can definitely afford to miss another day of classes,” Soonyoung insists from the door. He is dressed up for the day ahead, looking fresh out of the shower with his damp hair falling over his eyes, as usual. Wonwoo doubts Soonyoung has ever hit the snooze button on his alarm in his life. “It’s still the first week, you won’t miss much if you skip.”

“No need. I feel much better,” Wonwoo replies returning his eyes to the neglected notification on his phone screen. The unknown number behind the missed text has contacted him yesterday at lunchtime when he was still knocked out by the fever and oblivious to his surroundings, but he wishes he had not missed this.

He fires the number a quick text back ( _Are you still interested?)_ and considers leaving his bed. The idea of standing on his feeble legs comes along with the reminder of the sharp discomfort that took him whole for the past day and nights but he can’t stay inside anymore, not when he missed his counseling appointment and almost half of this week’s classes.

He doesn’t get up, not yet, but sits cross-legged to get used again to the sensation. ”It must have been on the beer we had after the relay,” he attempts to soothe Soonyoung as the weight of that missing text about his online AD and his best chance of not sharing an entire semester of classes with Mingyu is still heavy in his hands.

On Sunday night Wonwoo had not taken more than a few sips off his beer, and never in his life has he heard of people encountering hangover induced fevers more than 12 hours after binge drinking, and he’s sure neither has Soonyoung, but his roommate doesn’t fight him on it. With his overwhelming first day of classes taking its toll on him, Wonwoo has a good guess on what made him fall sick for he has a fairly wide history of experiences with somatization, when, without no other outlets, his mind tends to express distress and uneasiness as physical side effects.

“I would have taken you to see a doctor if Seokmin had let me,” Soonyoung states, arms covered with the fluff sleeves of a sweater now folding over his chest. “You have a weird friend and don’t think I haven’t told him that, because I said it on his face.”

“I don’t think I still got friends,” he disagrees but it doesn’t come out quite right, he sees it in the surprised stare Soonyoung’s flashes him with. “Not that I don’t want him as a friend again. Think I’m not thinking straight. I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t know what to do when I noticed there was something strange, so I called him. I had to text Hansol and tell him to ask his roommate for Seokmin’s number first. He showed up in ten, looking all frazzled. I think he might have run here,” Soonyoung reports with a thoughtful expression. “He wanted to stay longer but Taeil—He’s annoying. Seokmin came back yesterday after his classes and didn’t leave until curfew, though.”

He inhales deeply. Now has he not only involved Soonyoung in his mess but Hansol and Joshua, too. And Seokmin probably got worried, since he’s acting all careful around him. Wonwoo certainly could’ve finished his first week of classes without this one. 

“I will tell him I feel better later, then. But I gotta run to my class and talk to someone first.”

“Hansol is picking me up. On his bike, of course. You can go with him. I’ll go walking,” his roommate prompts instantly and as if he has planned to offer his spot on the backseat of Hansol’s ride beforehand. “And take my squeeze bottle with you. _The internet_ said you should keep hydrated, so you gotta drink fluids,” the male mutters through the soft pout of his lips

Wonwoo sees Soonyoung finally budge from where his feet seemed rooted to the doorway and walk up to the end of his bed to pick up his bag from the floor.

Wonwoo responds by covering his face with his hands and tugs the skin downwards with a miserable little grunt. “You sound like a parent. And I don’t mean it in a flattering way,” he clarifies, though he doubts his mom and dad would have to resort to Naver to know what to do with a feverish kid. 

Soonyoung finishes packing his bag with the water bottle and zips it up. In sequence, he says, “as if there is a flattering way of sounding like a parent.”

  
  


**[08:46 – Unknown]**

Sorry, traded classes with another student!

  
  


As a demonstration of good faith, Wonwoo visits his counselor’s office during the short interval between his first and second class of the day.

“Oh. Wonwoo!” she greets him as soon as the departure of another student opens some room for him to come inside. He comes in but lingers by the door. “I was expecting you yesterday.” 

He isn’t particularly heartbroken for missing his appointment due to his fever but finds it interesting how she remembers his name and their plans without even flipping the pages of that journal of hers in which she had scribbled several notes throughout their first encounter.

Because her office is in a bigger disorder than he remembers, he can’t spot its brown leather cover anywhere on her desk but guesses it may be buried under all those files she is yet to organize. There are a lot of them now but they all look custom made in a way, not exactly official, and they have pushed the desk wedge engraved with "Cha Ji-Won", her name, to the very edge.

Although sufficiently old to occupy this position in the institution, she’s a fairly young woman – younger than Coach Kang and his mom but definitely older than him – who seemed more put together before, when there weren’t students already desperate for some guidance coming in and out of her office.

“There’s still a lot to fix on my side of the room and I’m trying to do it before my roommate kicks me out. Sorry.”

The lie he rehearsed on the way to her office rolls off the tongue but it rings as an even bigger lie to his own years now he sees the mess she is dealing with in her own office.

“He wouldn’t do that. I bet he’s happy to finally have a roommate.”

It’s only their second meeting and she has mentioned Soonyoung on both occasions. The tone of her voice hasn’t changed though and no matter what words leave her mouth, all Wonwoo hears is "please like him!". 

Again she raises her eyes from the files her agile hand drops in a tall pile nested on her forearm. "How are you doing after our first talk? How's your first week of classes so far?"

Navigating periods of unconsciousness, fever dreaming of hospital beds and hay balls that belong to 3-hectare long fields of orchard grass running wild inside his room took up a good portion of the first half of his week. Alas, Wonwoo supposes that so far his days weren’t so bright and he’ll be victorious if he only gets to the end of this day.

"Alright," he replies, adding a couple of smooth nods to make it more convincing.

She hums. It may be a convinced hum or an “I can smell your filthy lie from across the room but for the sake of our conversation’s flow I will let this one slide” hum.

"Alright? Ok… That's something. How’s is it going with Kwon Soonyoung? Are you adapting well to each other?” she insists on these questions, much to his confusion. At first, Wonwoo thought the woman was making small talk by addressing these topics people do in order to catch up before sending him his way since she’s so obviously swamped with work now the semester has officially begun, but he’s starting to think she may be onto something here.

“He gave me a hand with unpacking and I met a friend of his and we went to the dining hall to get lunch together once and, well. I think it’s…” Wonwoo makes a quick pause. He doesn’t have a word to describe his week because even though he isn’t straight-up lying, he is still hiding so much from her. “…Alright.”

“Are you joining any clubs? Anything that caught your interest?”

Wonwoo just gives away a quiet shrug. “You told me not to, so I didn’t.”

If it had not crossed his mind already, his suspicion would have been confirmed when the counselor pulls her chair with the attire of a compassionate face.

“Wonwoo. Like many of the students I’ve accompanied, you didn't solicit visits to my office yourself. But do you even know what we’ll be doing here, in our meetings?”

“Counseling sessions.”

“And counseling is by definition…?” Her keen eyes narrow and she flashes him a frisky smirk. “Don’t say meddling in students’ lives. I’ve heard this one before and I’d rather pretend this student didn’t make an exceptional point.”

That’s a remark he could’ve done when he was nineteen and made no efforts to bite his tongue. Now, he traps his smartassery inside and abides by the authority she holds inside the office, telling her what he thinks she wants to hear because a counselor is still better than the psychiatric wards he sees in movies or somewhere equally as fucked. He wonders if they would think that seeking help in one of these places is the best for him if they found out he hasn’t said anything a hundred percent honest to her since his confession regarding going through his year as a wallflower.

“I’m a counselor and I _am_ counseling,” she replies before he can. “All I can provide is advice on your academic and personal development. I do believe that taking additional classes and extra-class activities is certainly something to avoid when we’re trying to make your return as stress-free as possible. I’m an advocate of the benefits of social interaction, however. School clubs can help stimulate the mind, boost your motivation, and… I have no intention to sound like a community center poster but I’ve seen social activities lessen students’ burdens before.”

Her desk wedge drops to the floor but neither of them moves to pick it up. For some reason, Wonwoo thinks she prefers it this way. 

“You may have already closed your timetable but if you find something that sparks your interest, we’ll find a way to make it happen. Teams are holding tryouts soon and clubs would accept members year-long if the Dean let them.”

The woman looks for his reaction but Wonwoo has gotten really good at not showing his emotions. Her lips stretch in what could be considered a smile to most people but he is still suspicious of the meaning behind it.

“Well. The first week of classes is a handful with plenty to deal with and to fall back into place, and I’m not immune to this, as you can see.” She moves her hand in the direction of all the clutter on her desk. “I’m happy that you came by and we chatted a bit. We have our schedule but you’re welcomed to my office any time.”

Finding in it his cue to exit the office, Wonwoo bows silently at her.

“Wonwoo,” she calls on his back when his hand has just started pulling the door.

Wonwoo swirls to face her again, happy to be almost out of there but just as taken aback. “Yes?”

“See you next week? Without fail?”

Clearly, she is unaware of what Wonwoo is to face next but he admires how secure she is that he will get through today and arrive safe, sound, and sane to her office next week.

He nods and bows one more time, then joins the crowd of students spilling into the halls to leave the building or get to their classrooms.

It's breathing and focusing on doing that, he thinks to himself one more time but the idea of sharing with Mingyu a whole semester of Probability and Statistics is a similar feeling to walking up to the guillotine.

* * *

Minor, insignificant mishaps aside, Wonwoo finds that the days start to progress free from disturbance when he does as the others’ request by acting like he isn’t even back to campus and walks on by them at any and all times they have the misfortune of being found in the same place.

Living only two doors down from Mingyu and Jeonghan’s room and in the same building as Seungkwan, Wonwoo has to go completely out of his way or change his plans to avoid a warped reunion in their dorms’ lobby when he is coming in and Seungkwan out, and at the assembly summoned by Moon Taeil, the 4th floor’s RA, on the afternoon of Saturday, for the purpose of having their building’s rules and policies enforced, or even at the coffee shop’s line when he decides it’s best to walk out without his favorite strawberry jam donut and expresso because he got a sight of a familiar tuft of hair in the crowd.

It should be a hassle to avoid seven guys who seem to be scattered all over campus and Wonwoo feels in the place of a well-trained pet sometimes but while his old friendships continue a subject he'd rather put off for now, keep his distance because the others are upset at him is a useful asset.

Wonwoo knows he only got to keep pushing until every other person that has ever met him before graduates at the end of the year, then he’ll finally be able to say he came out of this entire story unscathed and will carry on with his 1-year-long plan of making himself hermetically sealed from every sort of distraction, conflicts, and overall trouble.

However a far-fetched scenario in this day and age, given the slew of _distractions_ , _conflicts_ and _trouble_ he’s been through with Seungcheol confronting him for a whole hour and being the epicenter of a fight between his former teammates since his arrival, when Wonwoo goes to bed at night after surviving yet another day of replying that “yeah, he’s fine” whilst nodding his head to the people he meets in the halls, to his parents and his counselor, the thought of them believing gives him a little more faith that perhaps his plan isn’t as impractical.

Amidst his occasional hanging out with Seokmin when he isn’t practicing, Soonyoung and Hansol always being around (albeit never staying inside for longer than ten minutes after his arrival in order to give the duo some space, after counting the number of times the latter comes over to their room over the course of one week, Wonwoo assumes that to continue doing such would be impractical and leave him no time inside his own room), and the multiple classes Wonwoo has taken to compensate his absence for the past years demand hours to end inside classrooms, which works more than enough to distract him on days that are without fail a little bumpy, accordingly to his plans his University life is a party of one most of the time.

Switching buildings to get to his classes. Swallowing down the main dining hall's ambitious lasagna recipe during lunch. Shivering on his way to the library across campus when the early birds start to flock loudly inside the study rooms. Chewing mouthfuls of microwaved Hot Pockets and all the ramen he bought in his floor’s communal kitchen after a tiring night working on his first homework of the semester. Basking in the timid beams of sunlight daring to enter the window of his room and trying to catch in his hands tiny and bright specks of dust hovering in the air from his bed.

It’s only him.

At the end of his second week into the school term, Wonwoo has plans on a Friday evening. It’s a rare occurrence to have actual plans that don’t include killing time on his bed or stuffing his skinny, skinny frame with mozzarella sticks, chips, and whatnot, but after he’s over with his classes, he even has to do some running to get to the auditorium where the Environmental club promotes a lecture on environmental sustainable diets with guest professors.

“Hi. What did I miss?” he questions with his breath a little ragged from his running to arrive on time and join Minghao in the back, where is much emptier.

However not acting shocked at Wonwoo’s return for more than one minute even with their obvious lack of contact in years, when they walked each other the other day, this time Minghao seems pleasantly surprised with Wonwoo’s presence at the auditorium.

“Only first ten minutes of introduction,” he replies though, joining Wonwoo in his attempted violation of politeness and skipping the greetings too. “They’re not important. You don’t have a weak stomach, do you?”

That’s a tricky question.

Wonwoo drops his bag on a nearby seat. “No. No, I don’t."

“Good,” Minghao whispers on his left. “I helped to set the slideshow. Some are explicit, and by explicit I mean possibly gross.”

“Would it be rude to ask if they’re trying to achieve awareness with the grossness or it’s only for shock value? I’m trying to prepare myself for what’s coming. I don’t plan on engaging in a meat-free diet anytime soon.”

"Asshole."

Minghao delivers a playful punch to his shoulder. It’s a well-delivered punch but Wonwoo can only find in himself to smirk proudly.

“Hey. Remember our first competition out of town when Kwan, Mingyu, Seokmin and I roomed and only at the end of the weekend Seok noticed he had been using Mingyu’s toothbrush?” Minghao punctuates each word with low giggles that are squeaky by nature.

Wonwoo grimaces. “And then Seokmin threw up the entire bathroom? Yeah. Disgusting.”

“Right. We’re talking about one or two additional levels of gross tonight.”

Right on cue, a soft wave of disgusted winces of students follows what Wonwoo believes to be a disturbing slide worthy of a horror movie he just missed for chatting with Minghao, given their synchrony.

Jeonghan and Nayoung sit four rows ahead of theirs. The girl shifts on her seat to bury her face on his shoulder in obvious panic and Jeonghan peers at her from over his right arm, resting on her shoulders, and his lips waffle between offering her what seem to be soothing words and flashing her this smile that Wonwoo recognizes from past days however not on _his_ lips.

The penny drops quite quickly as Wonwoo would have to be immensely thick not to recognize the softness with which he puts one lock of her medium-brown hair behind her ear or the subtle giggles that cause her entire body to shudder as if she has hiccups. Everything about them together overflows with mutual interest.

It feels surreal to see two people who Wonwoo had never pictured involved now giving off this fantastic smitten vibe. In fact, it's such a tricky scene that Wonwoo has to triple check in order to be a hundred percent sure that his mind isn’t acting up.

“Are they really…?” he thinks louder than he should when the auditorium falls back into silence.

Minghao shifts on his seat to follow his gaze and his reply comes after a moment’s pause. It’s tinged with discomfort because no one likes to be the bearer of bad news. “I think so, and for some time now, I don’t know well. I found out last week when I ran onto them hugging at the stairwell. It caught me by surprise too. Even more to know Cheol isn’t with Nana anymore.”

Nayoung had been around since forever. They had teased Seungcheol about her breasts or anything equally ludicrous in more occasions than he’d like to during freshman year every time Seungcheol joined them for practice with an even nicer smile than the one he had etched onto his face the previous day, after gushing about having set a date night with her.

Whereas the whole team understood that Seungcheol’s good mood meant that sex must’ve played a part on his night at least at some degree, maybe for being a complete virgin at the time and now as virgin as he was two years ago, Wonwoo still believes that the real _force motrice_ behind his good mood was plain infatuation.

Whenever he was with Nayoung, Seungcheol behaved like the world had become a better place to live in overnight and there were no thorns in his side, and Wonwoo doubted that sex was capable of making people feel this way – it had to be something deeper.

Was Jeonghan even _joking_ about Seungcheol being lucky because of her physical attributes at the time, just like the rest of them, or had he actually seen her as the ideal attractive girl, the type you can find in buckets in their University halls? And why did he have to choose her instead of one of them? Why it had to be Nayoung?

On their golden days, senior members of the team often pitched the younger ones against one another, stimulating a pervasive atmosphere of tension that seemed to permeate inner disputes such as the first relay of each term. And since seniors made sure Jeonghan and Seungcheol wouldn’t be put in the same group, the dispute had been strong between them from the start, possibly going beyond their neck and neck battles on lanes 3 and 6.

But they were close friends. In their own twisted way and similar to how cartoon heroes cannot exist without their archenemies.

Wonwoo, however, never found out who was the hero and the villain between them, as both managed to fuck up equally as bad on occasion.

Now, he feels closer than ever to have his answer.

“Seokmin said they broke up before vacations, the reason being some nonsense about focusing on swimming.”

“Oh. Very noble, as expected from team Captain Choi Seungcheol,” Minghao taunts mimicking a dreamy tone.

“Do you think he knows?" Wonwoo asks, not louder than the previous question. It’s only expected Seungcheol would lose his mind as soon as he learned one of his former-best friends is seeing his ex. "Think he’s ok with it?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Who knows? But don’t touch that,” Minghao advises, head turning towards Wonwoo. "I'm begging you. Please don’t do that. Don’t pick sides."

Wonwoo looks on. As bad as this situation is, he would have no idea who to pick, either way.

“Isn’t convenient for you to be a part of this at this moment, either. Let Han and Cheol deal with their personal businesses alone.”

Minghao uses objective terms in order to trivialize whatever’s going on, but they don’t make Wonwoo feel better about the situation in the slightest. That’s a hard pill to swallow, hiding what he knows and let his friends deal with their issues by themselves instead of helping just because it’s more convenient for him to stay out of this.

They stay behind after the event is over to collect signatures of students on the attendance list and lock the auditorium, as settled by Minghao’s club mates. Truth be told, there isn’t much doing, and their few duties are mechanical and boring, the way Wonwoo hoped they would be when he first considered joining them. 

“Thanks for your help but you’re finally free to go. I can handle returning these flyers,” Minghao tells him, both having just walked out the auditorium.

“It’s fine. Not like I'm doing anything tonight but lots of reading before bed. I’ve become a pathetic friendless person.”

“You sure?” Minghao insists, but it’s clear he wants to flee as fast as possible to wherever he got to be on a Friday night and a helping hand wouldn’t do him any bad. Whereas the swim team covered entirely contrasting personalities, from the little Wonwoo has seen of Minghao now, he bets he has some new friends and they all suit his cool and smartness perfectly well.

He hums in agreement, snatching the thin wad of flyers from his friend’s hands. “Is there any list I should sign to join the club or was this an odd initiation of sorts?”

“Actually, yeah. Last year we gave our new members liberty spikes and dyed them green for our first meeting. To make a statement, of course. You missed out.”

“God. I wish I didn’t.”

“Your hair has the perfect length for spikes now. I could definitely hook you up if you’re still up for it.”

Minghao ensures the auditorium doors are indeed locked one more time, pockets the keys and together they start heading to the Environmental kids’ headquarters, where Wonwoo supposes the club usually holds reunions.

“I thought you would have forgotten about the meeting by now. I was surprised to see you earlier,” he reveals. “How did you like it? Are you really considering joining us?”

“Yeah.” He nods slowly. “Maybe a newbie can help you brainstorming new ways of recruiting new members next term without exposing them to gross and shocking stuff head-on.”

“I don’t think you’ll be very useful. I just saw you consider stop showering in order to save water and I’ll have to stop you right here. You’re not the Greta Thunberg you think you are,” Minghao reprimands him playfully.

Wonwoo snorts, then. He didn’t mean it but ran out of ideas when at the end of the documentary the discussion began and all the other people there had already presented all the plausible ways of fixing helping the environment. He had made a fool out of himself, that’s obvious. Now without Jeonghan, who left the auditorium before the start of the discussion, Nana had shown Wonwoo a cheerful grin, and because she seemed genuinely pleased to see him, he felt less clueless.

“No need to be so basic next time we reunite and you’re asked to propose an idea. While agriculture continues to be responsible for around 70% of the world’s water consumption, you don’t have to stop using water properly so the agribusiness can have more water to waste.”

And it is about that, very simple and straightforward, as every conversation Wonwoo still reminds having with Minghao when they were still freshmen.

They get to the room, return the stuff to their rightful places and lock the door behind them afterward.

“Catch up with you on Monday!” Wonwoo bids a goodbye and a very thankful Minghao offers him both of his raised thumbs.

In his room, Hansol makes his 1.78m body comfortable on Soonyoung's bed with his arms flexed behind his head like pillows. Soonyoung has long moved to Wonwoo's bed since he took a seat on his study chair to try and start reading all the photocopied pages of a book he borrowed from the library.

“Wonwoo. Tag, you’re it,” Soonyoung prompts after a long period of silence.

That’s the second time someone asks for his opinion this night and this is two too many already. It feels like the discussion with the Environmental Club all over again.

“Do you know how much the usage of disposable plastic bottles would drop in one year if each of us replaced them for reusable ones?”

“No. I don’t. How much?” Soonyoung asks sounding a tad thrown by the direction this conversation is going now Wonwoo has joined.

“Less 200 bottles per person, and we’re talking one year here.”

“Madness.”

“Truly. But on the other hand, entire villages around the world have no access to drinking water and thus have to resort to bottled. That _when_ they can afford bottled water.”

“Now I feel bad for trying to get back to the main subject. What coming up with ideas for a swimming event placard has to do with it again?” Soonyoung sounds slightly deflated from his usual positive and excited self.

“In a sense, you’re both talking about water,” Hansol says, smarty.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stray from the subject but I was actually thinking of something Minghao, you still remember him, right? Well, something he said about my ideas,” Wonwoo manages biting on the head of his pen.

Despite the round spectacles on his face and looking like every other nerd student you can find in the school building, he’s not the brightest when it comes to substantive ideas. The complete fail at the auditorium tells him so.

"No, no. I'm actually looking forward to your answer as a former member of the team. Try and think what you'd like to see when you're getting ready."

His eyes wander to the mug of instant cappuccino mix cooling down on his desk. He hasn’t been giving his undivided attention to whatever they had been discussing previously but knows Soonyoung got to the room later than what’s a school night’s usual, complaining about running out of ideas for placards to cheer for the team on their first official event of the semester against a nearby University or something along with these words.

Although Soonyoung says he has attended many events to cheer for the team since freshman year, to Wonwoo has been the longest time since he last revisited these memories of getting ready for an important run with that electrifying sensation flowing through his entire body as he lived the time of his life by his friends’ side and dozens of others rooted so loud for his victory.

"I… I used to have a peek at the placards after exiting the lockers or before getting up the starting blocks. I really liked the ones with our school inside jokes!? Funny things that made me laugh. The cheesy ones too,” he remembers with sincere fondness, thoughts wandering to moments before his last event as part of the team, merely a month before he decided he should never swim again.

"Have your eyes just shone for talking about when you were a swimmer? Is that real?” a baffled Hansol comments rolling on his stomach to see Wonwoo better. “That's the first time I've seen your body react so passionately to _anything_ since we met."

“You have no idea. He used to be all smiles before and after a race as if he knew it was a sure thing and there was no reason to fret," Soonyoung jumps the bandwagon smiling mischievously. “Smug as fuck! You knew you were the best and didn’t even try to hide. So frustrating.”

Wonwoo takes no notice of their comments. “I could be spitballing here,” he warns after hearing that squeak of excitement in Soonyoung’s voice. He definitely doesn’t want to be responsible for disappointing his roommate with opinions he hasn’t even matured enough to share. “Hansol probably has a loftier idea. He’s the artist among us.”

“Actually, I appreciate both perspectives! The former swimmer and the arts’ guy, that’s a team!” Soonyoung jumps off Wonwoo’s bed. “Maybe it’ll take us all night—“

“ _All_ night you said?”

“—but it’s our duty as seniors to figure a very cheesy rhyme and design a cool placard to go with it!”

“Meh. This University isn't deserving of my dedication on a Friday night.” Hansol swings his legs off Soonyoung’s bed in spite of his unimpressed tone. “Being asked to engage in anything related to this institution violates my inalienable right to dislike this place.”

Soonyoung is quick to help Hansol up to his feet. “I know you’re far from loving this place to death and that questioning everything is like breathing to you but all I’m asking you is to do it exclusively for the art.”

“When you talk like that you make it sound like I am a martyr dying for my meaningless art. I love it!”

They disappear behind the door and down the long hallway of doors.

Back turned to the rest of the bedroom, Wonwoo is left alone and in silence for good five minutes. He’s pretty much immersed in his school chores again when a knock on the open door comes.

He finishes the last line of a page and swivels on his chair to find a quite weary Mingyu, who has his bag drooping off one shoulder and his drawing storage tube hanging on another and is surely just returned from his last class of the night, on the doorway of his very own room.

On that first Wednesday of classes, Wonwoo had left his counselor office aware that, unable to afford to drop from that class without finding a replacement first, the only option left for him was to find a seat on the back of his classroom and see Mingyu come inside the classroom armed with his 6Bs from afar. That was the plan, and in Wonwoo’s humble opinion, a really good one which he was prepared to follow to the letter. He was prepared to avoid interactions with Mingyu and to hold on if only for those 2 hours, every Monday and every Wednesday. And so prepared was Wonwoo, he found embarrassing how late in his Probability and Statistics class he noticed that Mingyu wasn’t even coming. 

Now, the thought of what may have possibly brought Mingyu to his room makes him quiver inside. Now they’re in the same room again, and by themselves this time, what’s next? Shall he wait for a punch? Hands wrapped around his neck? Questions he can't answer yet?

Listening to his explanation regarding his presence and the stuff Soonyoung and Hansol asked to borrow after finding him in the hall, Wonwoo continues to mix the sugar at the bottom of his mug in inattentive, automatic circles because all he can think of is how he should be more careful of what he wishes for from now on.

“May I?” Mingyu gestures to the interior of the room, to which Wonwoo nods in a bit of a haze.

Mingyu removes his shoes and strolls further inside the room without rushing. Wonwoo watches him do at first but when Mingyu places his bag on one of the beds - it’s actually his bed but Mingyu doesn’t know that, not this time around -, he drops his spoon inside the mug and swivels his chair back to his desk to do what he does best: mind his own business.

Wonwoo feels so tense he’s suddenly wary of everything — his own soft breath, the students coming and going down the hall after a long day of classes, a shower curtain being pulled back on a metal rod in a room nearby and Mingyu zippering down the compartments of his bag. He even swears he can hear the TV going off in the TV room opposite the main kitchen, even if it’s virtually impossible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever pegged you as someone interested in joining clubs or fixing the world’s wrongness,” Mingyu converses from the middle of the room. There’s no edge to his voice and his tone is even, plain. It leaves too much space to wonder which emotion hides behind his words. 

“World’s… Wrongness?” he puzzles meekly into the silence.

“The Environmental club. Saw you leaving the auditorium with Minghao earlier, and I know the club was holding an event there. One of my teachers reacted rather passive-aggressive over the notice of the club reserving the space before he could,” he shares in his calm demeanor. “Are you joining them?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are on his pages again but he can only offer it half attention when Mingyu is tantalizingly close. He sure makes it seem like he is, though. “Oh. I think I'm looking for different interests this time around. Also, I could use the credits,” he tells Mingyu, and after a timid shrug he adds, “plus, they have snacks.”

A part of him wishes to stretch this moment a little longer and savor every second, as awkward as he may be making it right now by bringing up the snacks served earlier at the club’s lecture. It was either speak of organic juice and wholegrain biscuits or ask if Mingyu only showing up to Statistics once and never again was on the account of that stupid long leash granted to team members. But Wonwoo would feel even sillier ruining the quietness he experienced this week by acting overly curious.

“Can’t say I don’t appreciate how lethargic most of their activities seem though.”

Very quietly, Mingyu hums in acquiescence. “Clubs are where things _don’t_ happen. Snacks are important. They must be good ones," he says almost with a flippant tone.

It shouldn’t feel so nice to be spoken to but it’s been too long and the way Wonwoo doesn’t ask for much is sad as much as it’s foolish. Yet, he finds it hard to believe that the same Mingyu whose existence he has tried to shut his eyes to for the past two weeks, now lures him into small talk.

In retrospect, there have been occasions when Mingyu used small talk as a pretense to get back into someone’s good side. Especially after rough days when feelings ran high amongst the team and everyone had opposing opinions regarding the simplest matters and Coach Kang had to intervene. Wonwoo had always believed that all the quibbling vexed Mingyu, but he has no recollection of a single time they have talked about this sort of thing.

It had always been about deep connections that often seemed to date from way before a try-outs week with the entire team, always about that sentiment that entailed Wonwoo into believing he had found his crowd and would no longer feel alone during this new phase. When it came to Mingyu however, things weren’t so simple.

Sure, it wasn’t a case of Wonwoo not appreciating Mingyu since the very beginning, but with so many boys in their team and so much to say, it soon became easy to find more interests in common with some within their big group. There wasn’t a thing wrong with Mingyu and their contrasting personalities felt like a trivial detail but contrary to the others, Wonwoo reckons they didn’t seem to have something that served as a bridge to connect them on a personal level. At least not until they were paired up and made to spend more time together when, perhaps too soon, they began rising to the position of main swimmers.

Initially mistaken for an undisciplined teen, Wonwoo only followed enough rules not to be declassified from competitions and let instinct be his guide. Whereas he was feeling, Mingyu was technique, and his style fit all the metrics – he was very much in a league of his own and therefore the guy everyone should look up to for his experience with swimming dated from before times.

Taught to work together and rely on each other predominantly through the exercises proposed by their Coach with the purpose of turn their weaknesses into strengths, with sufficient practice they had been able to complement his carefree style with Mingyu’s textbook execution and vice-versa with a satisfying harmony that never failed to receive praise during competitions.

They’d join the boys during practices but be expected to hang around the pool for one or two additional hours, depending on their school schedule. They often lacked free time on their hands but when classes were over for the day, they would take their stuff to the gymnasium and study together on the bleachers before or after practices, behind Coach’s back.

In retrospect, plotting behind Coach Kang’s back and studying together on the bleachers after practices to optimize their time because they barely had any may have been the start of Mingyu sucking Wonwoo so effortlessly into his world.

In retrospect, with all the plotting behind Coach Kang’s back because she wouldn’t let them practice these extra hours if she found out that their only free moment to do homework and study for exams happened dangerously close to students’ curfew, came along those curious, tight-lipped smiles, the flash of funny faces from opposite edges of a long line of boys and, perhaps deep down, Wonwoo’s perception of the bond they grew day by day as Mingyu sucked him so effortlessly into his world.

Their personalities not fitting or molding together as easily should’ve kept them apart within a safe distance but the sharp edges and smooth gaps that got in the way had somehow left room for them to fill with something that Wonwoo still finds hard to explain. Wonwoo had no idea what that was at the time but he knew it was fun and carried that whimsical and positive sensation of change. The kind of sensation one has when they’re headed toward something insanely good so they yearn for the next chapter of their lives. It throbbed and it danced in his guts almost like a physical presence and for some time he thought this was all the encouragement he needed to get up from bed despite the tough day he may have ahead.

In a sense, the change Mingyu provoked did come. Just not in the way Wonwoo hoped it would.

In the end, Mingyu only got to grow into an agonizing nuisance that made his skin crawl, trying to shun helplessly for the months subsequent to the morning he sat with Junhui and Seokmin at the entrance of his dorm building to wait for his parents to take him home.

Mingyu moves in the room as if to remind him of his presence and Wonwoo finds it’s only polite to stop giving his back to this unswerving boy with a smidgen of coolness who presumably learned the effect he has on people over time. And Mingyu lingers by the door in the most relaxed way, with one socked foot pressed against his thigh to make a four with his legs and eyes skimming Wonwoo’s face, appearing to search for something.

The easiness vanishes. His brows twitch and dip in subtle confusion right when he finds whatever he’s been looking for but it knocks Wonwoo down not knowing what Mingyu is stewing inside his head.

As they grew closer, Wonwoo found out he had quite a flair for reading Mingyu. Often to the point of questioning whether it was fair to put it to use and choose the best moment to say or do certain things when he knew Mingyu would yield instead of putting up a fight that could only serve to tire them and the rest of the team.

Now he fumbles around his graying memories only to notice this ability has tarnished and whatever strings connected them and turned their communication solely through subtle signals from afar possible, receded into a poignant feel that eats him up.

And what is it, this little something in his eyes? He can’t name it but akin to everything else attached to this place, it induces insecurity into him.

Wonwoo quickly attempts to reckon every minor change his body went through and finds quite the amount.

Perhaps the motive of Mingyu’s wonder lies in the weight he lost during the course of the past two years due to the lack of the constant exercising he used to go through during better times and which loss doesn’t sit well in his flesh for his shoulders are too wide and it makes him feel like an outsider trying to get comfortable in a house that doesn’t belong to them.

Or his hair, that has gotten longer and easier to tangle but he can't be assed to fix it because he kind of appreciates how it looks in on him when he is standing in the mirror. His younger brother says he now resembles a Beatle in their shaggy eras and though Wonwoo can’t see what’s so wrong with it, maybe he should get a haircut now if it’s starting to draw stares his way.

His thin body and long hair aside, he’s too grown too, with both his feet in adulthood. He is taller than ever, his skin is clear of pimples and softer - both literally and figuratively - and his lips lack the easy smile he wore so proudly when he was nineteen - one of the many disadvantages of still recent grown-up dilemmas.

The thought of being too changed had always been heartbreaking. There had always been something scary about entering a new phase, learning that the way he knew how to do things wouldn’t work out anymore in new places and not being allowed to go back to the world he left behind because looking back wasn’t an option.

Whereas Wonwoo struggles to adapt to changes, Mingyu seems to have welcomed his own with arms wide open. In fact, Mingyu got it so easy it’s almost unfair to Wonwoo. His tallness doesn’t make him awkward. The width of his shoulders and the fitness of his body tell Wonwoo he hasn’t skipped a single day of workout and sprint training. The baby fat on his cheeks is almost completely gone, gracing him with a more mature appearance.

Wonwoo had always believed that Mingyu looked perfectly fine with his chubbier cheeks and welcoming face but these changes don’t look half bad on him, even if his face now reminds Wonwoo of food he never tried and places he never visited but would say yes to just like the first time when they were only two kids at the very end of their adolescences.

“You have a new scar on your—“ Mingyu has his index finger pointed to his own upper cheek when the echoes of Hansol and Soonyoung’s voices increase in volume.

This moment carries that intrinsic sensation one feels when someone goes on about a theme that is too similar to the huge secret they keep under lock and key, so they can’t help but consider coming clean already to cut their losses.

Except there is no secret in their case. No cliffhanger at the end of a TV show episode. Only an indication of all the despair left by the ins and outs and eventual dark ending of the partnership Mingyu and Wonwoo formed inside the pools.

“We got the A4!” Hansol’s big announcement cuts him off, and albeit anxious, Wonwoo finds it in him to envy how unaffected by all this tension hovering in the air the male seems to be.

Coming inside after Hansol, Soonyoung’s words are sprinkled with pride when he tells them they got the A4 sheets from the study room. “And Mingyu! Thanks for borrowing your drawing set! I know your stuff is expensive but we’ll return it safely,” he continues.

Mingyu accepts their thanks with a discreet nod. “I’ll start to research for my final project this weekend so I won’t need it until Monday,” he tranquilizes them and offers a fist that each boy bumps onto rather easily. “You don’t need to bring it to mine’s when you’re done. I’m going to bed as soon as I get to my room.”

“Bed before ten? You’re boring, _boring_ then?” Hansol mocks but Mingyu is too unfazed to do more than flick his forehead furtively.

“You’re starting your research already?” Soonyoung takes the words right out of his mouth and walks up to Wonwoo’s bed to carefully check the stuff Mingyu brought to their room. “I’m still deciding on a subject for my dissertation. You’re earlier than like everyone I know.”

Wonwoo stares at Mingyu again to hear his response but Mingyu has his eyes cast down. “I’d rather start early because I won’t have much free time with the team’s events, midterms and finals. I’ve never worked on anything of this elaborate before and graduation depends on it, so...! Hopefully you’ll find time between crafting placards to think of your dissertation.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hear Soonyoung’s reply to Mingyu’s obvious teasing. He is busy wondering if that’s the most personal thing he said since he made it to the room, and to notice he goes on about his motives so casually to Soonyoung makes him think of all the stuff he missed for not being around.

Before being paired up with his new roommate, his most recent memory of Soonyoung had been of a fresher that was picked on and made fun of behind his back. Their first year seemed to be flying by and Wonwoo was only starting to get busy with the team, his classes, and a new phase of his life, and too busy to partake in the gossiping or learn why and how the rumors of Soonyoung liking guys started but he knows they were already there by the end of the second month of classes.

As far as he knows, Mingyu was just as busy throughout their swamped year, but, now being in the same room as them two years later, Wonwoo witnesses that living in the same building, floor, and hall since their first year, certainly isn’t under unnatural circumstances that Mingyu and Soonyoung managed to develop a minimum degree of amicability. And it tickles Wonwoo a little to remember he wasn’t around for that. It tickles him to remember his urgency to flee didn’t allow him to see things get better when he himself had predicted that nothing could possibly change as long as people continued so invested in lives that weren’t their own.

“Aquaman! Wait up!” Hansol calls him, shifting his weight from one leg to another so he can stare at the swimmer properly. “Speaking of which, any progress convincing Jeonghan to join my pretty boys portfolio? Tell him Taeyong and that kid Donghyuck agreed on posing for me if you think that’ll help him to join us. Wonwoo will be part of it too!”

However having nodded yes (maybe he can survive this year by the single nod of his head only; he should have that checked) to all that portfolio talk on Wednesday, when Hansol carried him across campus on the backseat of his bike, and considering himself charming to the degree of convincing the manager of his first-ever attempt of being admitted at a job to hire him even if he had no experience in retail or any other field whatsoever, the idea of having his face showcased on Hansol’s portfolio for all of his professors to see is still iffy to him.

Of course, his looks only weren’t enough to keep the job for more than four weeks when soon enough his lack of initiative toward interested shoppers started showing and his manager called him on the side to tell him, in a very subtle way, that maybe he had gotten ahead of himself by hiring Wonwoo.

Hansol’s revelation has Mingyu looking over to Wonwoo as if he’s seen any sort of confirmation, and at this moment Wonwoo hopes that Mingyu can find his answer in the way he starts nibbling his bottom lip.

“Tell him I’ll treat him with pizza as long as he doesn’t tell the others.”

“He says he’s not interested but I’ll do that,” Mingyu soothes and that’s pretty much the last thing Wonwoo acknowledges before going back to focusing on his homework. His coffee must be lukewarm and properly sweetened now.

“Wonwoo. It was kind of awkward when we got here,” a worried Soonyoung croaks out after Mingyu is out the door. “Was Mingyu lecturing you like the others?”

Wonwoo hadn’t found it in him to get into details regarding his situation with the team to Soonyoung but on the night they had beer, Seokmin let a few comments about the harsh welcome he received on his former team’s part.

He sucks in a breath feeling the tip of his nose tingle. “It’s been awkward with everyone since I got back. I messed up and quit the team without letting them know in advance. It was a wrong turn and it gave them an itemized list of motives to hate on me. It’s the price I pay for my excessive selfish decision. But I’m not special or anything because it seems they’ve been jamming themselves onto each others’ necks more often nowadays,” he replies risking paper with his highlighter pen in languid, choppy patterns. “I don’t know where Mingyu stands now I’m back but he didn’t lecture me. I was expecting him to kind of blow me off super badly like the others but I think tonight he was offering me a chance of moving on in his own peculiar way.”

Unspoken understandings had been a constant between them. Without previous discussion, they had settled that they had to try their best to overcome the other in the pool because no records should last more than two weeks and they should meet in the pool for studying sessions a few times per week, even though they didn’t share any classes. These agreements laced their friendship up while they relied on their bond to let one another grasp the meaning behind sentences that never quite saw the light of the day.

“Josh says Mingyu is too concentrated in juggling his school life and responsibilities with the team to even busy himself with anything else,” Hansol comments with the expertise of an insider. Rooming with a team member, perhaps that's exactly what he is. “Being a model student is essentially against my beliefs.”

“ _What_ isn’t against your beliefs?” Soonyoung asks aside and elicits a diverted snort from Wonwoo.

“Please tell me he didn’t have it in him to be this boring when you were still part of the team!”

Wonwoo wants to puff out his chest and reply a giant yes! for old times’ sake.

Mingyu could be goofy at times but he had never been careless when it came to swimming. He had always been capable of turning the switch off and focusing on important matters when demanded. Even back then, whereas Wonwoo loved being there, surrounded by people that made him feel like he belonged to something that went beyond him, it was so clear that Mingyu simply loved swimming because it was his life. He breathed, lived, and loved it because he was rooted in purpose.

It doesn’t sound like Mingyu becoming the rarer and most disappointing swim team star of all time albeit he definitely carried the potential because he was so professional beyond his years and teased all the time for such. He could even take his performance in the pools more seriously than Wonwoo but he wasn’t boring. Wonwoo always found Mingyu so fun to be around.

Wonwoo rests his highlighter on the desk. “No. He was alright. We used to find fun in coming up with stupid dares and making the other carry us on piggyback rides from one side of the pool to another and these things,” he replies instead, relying on the most recurring memory he can put some thought on now. Dig their chins at the top of each other’s heads just because they took sadistic pleasure in witnessing the other struggle was mandatory.

“It was nice of him to borrow the materials he uses in classes so we could draw the poster,” Hansol praises.

The image of an unsuspecting Mingyu emptying his pencil case in Statistics seers into Wonwoo’s mind. “It was,” he admits though he himself hasn’t experienced the male’s nice side when it came to his belongings yet. That’s too easy to ignore when their spontaneous reunion has induced a teeny-tiny shred of joy into him for being here for the first time this semester.

As a former-swimmer, Wonwoo knows there are times one tastes what could only be described as recklessness in joy and for this reason, for the first time in havens knows how long, he gets really close to issuing the burdens he’d grown along with all those numb years of his, when feeling things so deeply became his biggest concern.

He would share his outrageous story at this moment if Soonyoung and Hansol demanded, and without feeling burdened to. Like a flight attendant, he would even give them the choice (“ _The long or short version, sir?”_ , the voice in his head recites) and not try, not even once, to spare them from the most miserable details of the night he discovered he couldn’t be there anymore because he felt like _fading_ into existence while all eyes were on him.

“Listen. Do you plan on accepting this so-called chance?” Soonyoung asks with the right amount of concern. He doesn’t even cross that subtle line between care and meddling, and Wonwoo thinks this is fine because his caution only makes him happier.

“Any day.”

Hansol coos suggestively and Wonwoo is certain he just flopped back on the bed at this moment, and he can’t help but smirk helplessly as he pictures the scene he just missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sheesh! Mingyu and Wonwoo first interaction isn't like you expected, I bet jkfjks this chapter includes some infos about their relationship and introduces their past and actual situation. Now you know the before and the after, next up: whatever happened in between. There's more to come and I wish I could talk more about this fanfic I love so much but I'm honestly so out of my head with this emotional roller coaster our fandom is going through for weeks now. hopefully a new chapter of this fanfiction comes as a distraction not only for me but for you too. I took too long to release this chapter but tell me if it pays off in the comments as we'll talk there! I'm hugging tight every single one of you (and Mingyu) rn! ♥
> 
> Oh. user Ilovebreadwithmilk asked if I had a playlist for this fic and I arranged one, [here](https://suan.fm/mix/HkYdfV8_I) it is. and I've been considering coming up with a hashtag for my works so I can track it on Twitter but idk if it'll work at all but I guess I'll try soon.


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